


If You're Out There

by soclosetonight



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angsty Jared, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Drug Use, M/M, Runaway, Self-Harm, Underage Drinking, Underage Rape/Non-con, deaf jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soclosetonight/pseuds/soclosetonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you fight back when you can't seem to find your voice? Jensen is doing his best to get by in an abusive household while protecting his younger sister, but as the bruises continue to grow deeper, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. Jared is doing his best to hold them all together, until Jensen takes matters into his own hands. Suddenly thrust upon unexpected journeys, Jared and Jensen will both have to walk alone in order to discover themselves and a way back to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2009 for a big bang challenge over on my old livejournal, magicletters. (Hence, the presence of Sandy and absence of Genevieve.) Anyway, just moving it over here to Ao3. Artwork was done by the still amazing sillie82 on LJ. Hope you all enjoy!

**  
Prologue**  
_If you hear this message,_  
_we can't afford to wait._  
_The future started yesterday,_  
_and we're already late._

 **:::**  
  
The bells above the entrance to the café rattle loudly, and Jared looks up from the glass of water sitting on the table in front of him, hoping to God it's Jensen coming in because he doesn't know how much longer he can sit here with his stomach twisting like it is. Seeing an elderly couple walk through the door instead, Jared drops his gaze, sinking back into the cushion of the small booth he's seated in. He glances over at the old, weathered clock attached loosely to the wall. It doesn't have any numbers, only lines in their place and looks as though it will come crashing to the floor any moment, but it's been there ever since Jared can remember coming here, and for a small moment it's comforting. It doesn't take away from the fact that another ten minutes have passed without Jensen walking through the door though, and Jared wishes more than anything he could pick up the phone and call him, make sure he's okay.  
  
But he can't, so he sits, and waits, and prays that nothing has happened.  
  
He's about to leave, has just slipped a few crumpled bills onto the table when someone slides into the seat across from him. His head snaps up, the knot in his stomach easing only slightly upon seeing Jensen. The smile he offers Jared is feeble and weak, stretches across his face like it was attached there with needle and thread. It doesn't last long, and Jensen sinks back, a heavy puff of air exhaling from deep within his chest as his shoulders slump.  
  
"Hey," Jared says, wincing reflexively at the shaky and strained sound to his voice even though he knows he's the only one that heard it. Silence falls between them, and the frown on Jared's face deepens when Jensen merely lifts his chin slightly in a nod, his own weary greeting. Jared wonders if he's too exhausted to raise his hands and sign. He points to Jensen, hooks the index finger of his left hand with the thumb of his right before jutting them both forward, then upturns both palms and moves them in a small circle. He forms a question mark with his index finger and lifts his eyebrows slightly, a small smile on his lips. He's asking if Jensen had run here, knows he hadn't, but from how tired he seems it's like he's just finished a marathon. It's lame, but he's always been one to try and ease tension with a joke or a funny face, and it's a small attempt to lighten the sadness in Jensen's eyes.  
  
It does for a brief moment, and Jensen slowly shakes his head in a disagreeing gesture as he taps his pointer and index finger against his thumb.  
  
Jared bites at his bottom lip. "Your dad?" he asks, and this time Jensen shakes his fist up and down. _Yes._  
  
It was part of the small vocabulary of sign language Jared knew and understood well _,_ the other half of the unspoken language they'd created and shared together over the years. Jensen was born completely deaf, grew up with a dad that never bothered to try and communicate with anything other than his fists and a mom who did her best to protect her children, but she could only do so much and couldn't afford to leave.  
  
Jared watches as Jensen winces and shifts to the side, pulls the notepad that he always keeps with him out of his back pocket. His hands shake as he writes.  
  
**mac's sleeping at a friend’s house. i can't go home tonight**  
  
Jared reads the message and nods. He doesn't question Jensen about what he’s written, has dealt with this kind of situation before and knows that Jensen will tell him if he wants to, if he’s ready. "Want something to eat?" he offers instead.  
  
Jensen shakes his head, pulls a cigarette out of his jacket and lights up.  
  
"You have to eat, Jensen. You're going to make yourself sick."  
  
' _I eat,'_ Jensen signs simply, finishing off his sentence by pointing back at his chest. Jared can tell he's lying, knows Jensen will go days without eating so his younger sister can have something for dinner when she comes home from school. With Josh in the military, it's up to Jensen to keep her safe. Jared does his best to lessen that weight as much as he can.  
  
Jensen takes a long drag of his cigarette, and Jared writes his own message down on the notepad.  
  
**cigarettes give you cancer**  
  
Jensen gives a small shrug. He signs _'walk',_ eyebrows raised in question, and Jared knows he isn't in the mood to talk, much less tell him what's going on, so he agrees, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head to brace against the chilly outside air and follows Jensen out of the café without a word.  
  
They walk for hours, through neighborhoods with moms idly pushing strollers down the sidewalk and into the swift pace of downtown. Their path eventually leads them to the park where Jared is finally able to convince Jensen to eat a small sandwich from a vendor on the sidewalk. In return, he agrees to attempt to smoke a cigarette just to see Jensen laugh at the inevitable coughing fit that follows the first intake of breath. They stop when they eventually land at the small, familiar clearing in the trees just hidden from the walking trail. It's the spot they often come to when they want to escape the world for a moment, when Jensen wants to watch the fallen leaves rustle and see the trees sway and not feel the angry vibrations of his father's footsteps storming toward him or feel a chaotic charge in the air.  
  
Jensen slouches down against the sturdy trunk of an old tree and Jared slides down next to him. Jensen is on about his fifth cigarette when Jared reaches for it as his shaking hand brings it to his mouth to take another drag. He takes it gently from his fingers, putting it out against the bottom of his shoe. Jensen lets him, a sigh escaping from his lips as he drops his hand to his lap. Whenever he’s worried about something he tends to smoke more than usual, often losing track of how many cigarettes he's gone through until the whole pack is empty. He stole them from his dad when he was too drunk to notice or care, found it was one of the few things that could calm his nerves when Jared wasn't there.  
  
But right now Jared is here, and his arm is wrapped around his shoulders and its more warmth than he's felt in days.

Jared mimes writing something into the air and Jensen hands him his notebook. Somehow talking doesn't feel right in this moment, like even though Jensen can't hear him he doesn't want his voice to disturb the quiet and calm that has settled around them.  
  
**you're scaring me**  
  
Jensen stares at the paper for a long while, transported back to just a few hours ago when his mom was crying and Mackenzie was hiding in the closet underneath the stairs and he was doing his best to take the blows from his father.  
  
A slight nudge from Jared sends him snapping into himself again and he nods, signs _'sorry.'_  
  
**don't be** , Jared writes. There's a pause, then he adds, **how bad is it?**  
  
Jared watches Jensen play with the hem of his shirt, hesitating to show the bruises he knows will be on his abdomen. Jared has seen his dad's wrath before, but Jensen can't keep the shame and embarrassment from settling in his cheeks and causing them to blossom a brilliant red that stands starkly against his otherwise pale features. He lifts the thin material and winces slightly at the rush of cold air against his skin.  
  
The marks are large and crimson, welts angry and swollen. The bruises wrap around his torso, disappearing onto his back and stretching over his protruding ribs. Jared doesn't realize Jensen has begun to cry until he hiccups, his breath catching in his chest and that's all it takes for his exterior to crumble. The tears that fall are hurt and angry and terrified, and he lets his head fall to rest on Jared's shoulders.  
  
Jensen starts to sign something then, and Jared doesn't quite catch every fluid motion but he sees the signs for _leave_ and _soon_ and he understands what Jensen is trying to tell him without having to know the rest.  
  
Jared puts a finger to Jensen's lips and pulls him closer, shushes him softly against his ear. He tells him that it's going to be okay, that they'll figure it out and that he's going to help, but he doesn't know if it will ever be okay, if they'll ever figure it out or if he's even helping Jensen at all. He wishes he could snap his fingers and make everything better but he can't, so he does all he knows and tries his best to pick up the pieces whenever they're broken, placing them back together with care and smiles and warmth. It isn't perfect, but Jared hopes that at least for now, it will be enough.  
  
When Jensen's eyes finally fall closed it's as if he can't find the drive to open them again and he gives in, allowing himself to sleep for the first time in days.  
  
 

 

 

  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen can feel the floor vibrate with each heavy step that moves closer towards the door. He tries not to think about it, tries to focus on the coolness of the counter top as he presses his palms flat against its surface, or the light of the morning sun shining through the small window, but each new footfall captures his attention, draws out the feeling of anxiety rising thick in his chest.  
  
He doesn't know if he's ready, if he's going to be able to handle this.  
  
The footsteps stop and he looks up just as the door to the bathroom starts to shake underneath his father’s hands. It doesn’t take long for the old, worn lock to give and for his dad to come bursting in, mouth and lips moving too fast for Jensen to keep up with the words as he gives him a tired glance. Doesn’t matter much what he’s mad about, because in the end, the deep anger and resentment he sees when he looks into his father’s eyes is all the same, and when the words fail to register that look never does.  
  
Jensen drops his hands from the counter and turns to fully face his father, clenching and unclenching his fist in an attempt to fuel some fight in him that he doesn’t feel like he has anymore. It’s not long before his dad runs out of things to yell about, turns to pushing him around instead. Not hard enough to make him fall, but with just enough force to cause him to stumble back and hit his hip painfully against the corner of the counter. He winces, turns his head away and counts down the seconds until the next blow. When he hits five, it comes as a knock to the jaw that sends his head back and his teeth crashing against one another.  
  
Jensen lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes until he feels angry footsteps shaking the floor as they leave. He lifts his hand and rubs at his jaw, opens and closes it gingerly. It’s not broken, but it’ll be sore for a while.  
  
Small hands lift the material of his shirt, press a cool washcloth to the sensitive skin of his hip and Jensen lets out a soft hiss. He looks down to see Mackenzie staring back up at him, eyes wide, and he wonders how long she’s been here, how much she’s seen.  
  
He rubs a weary hand over his face, takes a deep breath to gather himself before giving her a reassuring smile and reaching out to take the cloth from her hands. The stabbing pain in his hip is dulling to a throb, and when he looks down at it he can already see the beginnings of yet another bruise.  
  
Jensen points at his chest and makes a scooping motion with his right hand into the palm of his left. _'I’m all right.'_  
  
Mackenzie nods, bites at her lip, and Jensen ignores his protesting muscles as he kneels down. He plants a kiss on her forehead, folds his hand into the sign for _I love you_ and rests it on her chest. It makes her smile a little, erases some of the fear written in her young face. Its times like these where that smile is all he has to cling to, and he hates the way it fades so easily.  
  
He reaches out and smooths down her long hair before standing slowly, holding out his hand for her to take as they walk down the hall. He grabs her backpack from her room and places it on her shoulders, does the same with the bag he’s already prepared, packed and unpacked several times before finding the courage to place what they’ll need in it and leave it there for good.  
  
When they walk out of the house, he covers her ears when he sees their mom and dad yelling in the kitchen. He doesn’t look back.


	2. Part One

**Part One**  
_We’ve been looking for the world to change.  
If you feel the same, then go ahead and say._

 **:::** _  
  
_ The bus tires hit a pothole in the old freeway cutting through miles of flat Texas terrain, and Jensen blinks awake. Mackenzie is snuggled closely by his side, hasn't been more than a foot away from him since they left home, and Jensen can tell she's terrified. He doesn't blame her; he is too. He did his best to explain to her exactly why they left and where they were going, but he doesn't know how much she understood, how much had been lost in translation. He isn't quite sure what to expect from all of this himself but knows it's better than staying at home. He doesn't know what he'd do if anything ever happened to Mackenzie because he was too afraid to leave when they had the chance.  
  
Clusters of lights catch Jensen's eye as they pass by the windows, and he looks out to see a sign for Waco's city limits pass by. The bus exits the highway, pulling into an old truck stop where the parking lot is cracked and a few men wearing shirts with the sleeves cut off mingle outside the front door smoking cigarettes. It gives Jensen a craving to reach for the nearly empty pack in his bag, but he stops himself; he doesn't want Mackenzie to see him smoking.  
  
He pulls his eyes away from the men and sees the bus driver grab the small speaker microphone. His back is still turned to the rest of the passengers and Jensen doesn't catch what he says before he places the mic back on the hook. People around start to stand, causing Mackenzie to stir next to him, and Jensen gives her a reassuring smile when she slowly opens sleepy eyes and looks up at him. He forms his hand into the letter C, turning so that his fingertips point towards him and slides it down his chest once, asking her if she's hungry. She gives a small nod before looking down at her stomach. From the small blush that settles in her cheeks, Jensen guesses it has just growled. He laughs a little, taking her hand as they get off the bus and head towards the convenience store.  
  
**:::**  
  
The knock on the door comes late Wednesday night, and Jared's body immediately tenses at the faint noise as it travels up through his closed bedroom door. He's been lying awake on top of his made up bed for hours now, staring at the ceiling and glancing at the clock every so often. It's steadily ticking towards 2 a.m., but he can't seem to make himself get up and change out of his school clothes, or turn off the overhead light that's starting to hurt his eyes.  
  
The sleepy voices of his mom and dad float upstairs, and Jared props himself up on his elbows, strains his ears to hear.  
  
"Honestly Gerry, who would be knocking at this hour?"  
  
"I don't know, Sharon," his dad replies, the front door creaking loudly in the background as it’s pulled open.  
  
Jared is careful to make as little noise as he can as he finally drags himself off of his bed, cracks the door to his room and slips out into the hallway to look on from the top of the stairs. He sees his mom in the pale pink robe she always wears on Saturday mornings, his dad in an old T-shirt and plaid lounge pants. They're looking at someone he can't quite see yet, both of their faces set in a confused silence until his mother finally speaks.  
  
"Mrs. Ackles?" She hesitates for a moment before ushering her in from the cold. The door clicks shut behind her. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm sorry to bother you this late," she starts and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It's obvious she's upset from the way she wrings her hands together, looks at the ground while she talks. "But it's... it's my kids, Jensen and Mackenzie. I — we don't know where they've gone."  
  
Jared's mom puts a hand over her mouth. "Oh my," she says quietly beneath her palm.  
  
"How long have they been missing?" his dad asks, but Mrs. Ackles doesn't answer, just shakes her head slowly. It makes Jared's stomach drop.  
  
"I was wondering if you guys knew anything," she says instead. "I mean our boys were pretty good friends right? Jared might know something?" She doesn't say it as a statement, and the breaks in her voice make Jared shiver.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Gerry says. "I'll go wake him up."  
  
Jared can feel his heart beating heavily in his chest, and it takes all he has to keep himself from going back into his room, from closing the door behind him and hiding away forever. "I'm awake, Dad," he says softly.  
  
Three faces turn to stare up at him as Jared makes his way down the stairs, the creaking of the old floor underneath him unusually loud to his ears.  
  
"What are you doing still dressed?" his mom asks, her voice layered with concern.  
  
"I was still doing homework. I've got a big project due," he answers, doing his best to avoid eye contact.  
  
His dad clears his throat, and Jared reluctantly raises his eyes to look at him. "Mrs. Ackles here was wondering if you knew anything about Jensen," he says, then adds a little more gently, "He's gone missing."  
  
Jensen's mom looks at him earnestly. "Have you seen him? Maybe he told you something about where he was going, if he was planning anything..."  
  
Jared bites at his lip and shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, no. No, he never said anything. I haven't seen him in a few days. I thought maybe he was sick or something." He hates lying, hates the way his stomach flutters nervously and his jaw aches from all the tension held from the hard grind of his teeth. He swallows thickly.  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, he must have said something to somebody, right? He's quiet, but he has friends," Mrs. Ackles says. "He talks to people." Her words carry empty assurances, like somehow hearing them will make them come true. She's on the verge of hysterics, hands still wringing, and it's getting exceedingly harder to watch.  
  
Jared turns his eyes to his dad instead, watches as he places a hand on her shoulder. "Where's Alan? Have you guys gone to the police?"  
  
She shakes her head. "No. Alan wanted to ask around first. You know, before the police got involved and started asking questions." She stops suddenly, realizing that maybe she's said too much, and even in his attempt to avoid eye contact Jared catches the new wave of fear that places itself on her features. He wonders if his parents have caught it too.  
  
"I should probably go," she says, words soft and shaky. "Thanks anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki, Jared. Sorry to bother you."  
  
"No problem at all," his mother answers, but Mrs. Ackles' face still carries the same sad, apologetic expression.  
  
They all see her to the door, and Jared lets out a long sigh as she disappears down the street again. He never really had anything against Mrs. Ackles. She's a nice enough woman and a lot of times he finds himself feeling sorry for her, but things are different now. Jensen is gone, and a growing part of him can't help but feel a little anger towards her for sticking next to a man she knew was hurting her children so badly, for defending him whenever anyone asked questions and for making Jensen feel like he had no other choice but to take his sister and run.  
  
Jared startles when his mom begins to rub her hand up and down his arm, her own worry clear as she asks, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Jared says, the word falling from his lips reflexively. He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm just – I'm gonna go to bed, okay?"  
  
"All right." His mom drops her hand, her arms folding across her chest. "Goodnight, honey."  
  
"'Night."  
  
Jared can hear his parents' soft whispers as they head down the hallway to their bedroom. His mom is worried about him; his dad wonders why the police haven't been involved yet, if they'll come around asking questions soon. Jared rubs a hand over his eyes, finds himself looking out the front window with a fleeting hope that Jensen isn't far and is just waiting for the right time to come knock on their door himself, but the street is empty; even Mrs. Ackles is nowhere in sight. Jared feels something thick and heavy settle in his stomach.  
  
Jensen is gone.  
  
**:::**  
  
It's strange going to school in the morning.  
  
Jared makes his way to class feeling like he’s caught underwater, the usual chatter and laughter bouncing off the hallway walls around him and returning sounding distorted and far away, unfamiliar.  
  
"Uh, earth to Jared!"  
  
His feet stop moving without him really telling them to and he finds himself looking around. It dawns on him that he’s long since passed his classroom, takes him another moment for him to remember what made him stop walking in the first place: Sandy.  
  
"I've been calling after you for like the last five minutes! People were starting to give me funny looks," she says with a smile, adjusting the purse strap that had fallen down her shoulder. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothing much," Jared replies, his voice flat.  
  
"Well _that's_ convincing." Her brow crinkles slightly. "What's with the doom and gloom look? I mean, emo is cool and all, but it doesn't really fit you, you know? You're too... happy go lucky all the time."  
  
"Is that so?" Jared does his best to offer her a soft laugh but it comes out sounding more like he’s choking. "I've just got a lot on my mind, I guess. What's up with you?"  
  
"Oh, same old, same old." She studies him for a moment. "So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or am I going to have to force it out of you?"  
  
Jared smiles. Leave it to Sandy to see past his bullshit. "I just... I don't know. Now really isn't a good time."  
  
"What?” she jokes, putting on her best face of exasperation. “You'd actually rather get to class on time than talk to me?"  
  
"Well, yeah. That too, I guess." The answer earns him a swift punch to the arm.  
  
If it were any other day he would have played along, pretended like everything was just fine and said he had just pulled an all-nighter for some project. He would have joked back when she hit his arm, saved himself from the questions he knows are on the tip of her tongue and from that expectant look she's giving him as she waits for him to tell her what's going on.  
  
If it were any other day, he would have told her. "Not now, Sandy." Jared sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, focuses on some spot on the floor.  
  
" _Okay_." She draws out the word, makes it last much longer than it should. "So, when?"  
  
"I don't know. I need to get to class."  
  
When he turns his back on her and walks away, he tries not to think about the hurt in her eyes and can't help but feel like this is the moment where everything changes.  
  
**:::**  
  
Sandy is waiting for him by his locker when the final bell releases them from class. He'd done his best to get to it as quickly as possible, but somehow Sandy still beaten him here.  
  
"Took you long enough," she says as he walks up and fumbles with the old combination lock that never seems to work on the first try.  
  
"What are you doing here, Sandy?" he asks dryly. Her locker is in a hallway on the opposite side of the school.  
  
"Uh, waiting for you."  
  
"Yeah. I see that." Jared finally manages to open it on the third attempt, dumping his books inside. “I said now wasn't a good time," he adds as he pulls out the folder containing his homework for the night and closes the door again.  
  
"You said that, what, five hours ago? So, technically _now_ doesn't really qualify as still being a bad time."  
  
"Look Sandy," Jared begins, running a hand through his hair and thinking of what he's going to say next. He knows he should open up to her, knows that she's just trying to be a good friend and he should appreciate that, but when he opens his mouth his voice is hard and he says, "Do I have to tell you everything?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I told you I don't want to talk about it, so just drop it already.”  
  
“Since when did we stop being able to talk about things?” Sandy asks, and when Jared doesn’t answer, just sets his jaw and looks at her coldly, her face falls, eyes sparkling. “I guess... I mean I didn’t know you...” she stops, can’t seem to gather what she’s trying to say.  
  
"Sandy..." Jared relents after a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm just..." He rubs a hand over his face. "I'm just really tired."  
  
"Yeah. Sure. I'll see you tomorrow," she says, and this time it's her that turns her back and walks away.  
  
**:::**  
  
A couple of blocks from the high school stands a small, seedy gas station where everyone knows the attendants hardly ever check IDs, and Jared heads straight there the moment he leaves school. Inside, the air is thick and warm, and it makes it all the more difficult to breathe as he heads to the service counter. A large man sits on a small stool on the other side, a radio next to him playing some old blues music Jared's never heard before.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asks slowly in a deep voice, a thick Southern accent lacing his every word.  
  
Jared clears his throat. "Yeah. Can I have a pack of Marlboros please?"  
  
The man doesn't move, just stares at him for a long time. "What kind?"  
  
Jared looks up from the spot on the counter where he'd fixed his eyes. "Huh?"  
  
"What kind?" he repeats, and slowly stands to move to the glass door where the cigarettes are displayed.  
  
"Oh. Uh, the red ones."  
  
The man slides back the door and grabs a pack, holding it up as he asks, "Original?"  
  
"Yeah. Original." Jared taps his fingers against the counter. “I’ll take that lighter too.”  
  
As the old man brings the pack to the counter, Jared pulls out the fake ID he’d bought from some kid at school a while back. He's never used it – the picture on it doesn't look anything like him and it says his name is Vladimir Putin. The guy doesn't even look at it though, just hands the cigarettes and lighter to Jared along with his change and wearily sits back down onto his stool.  
  
Jared opens the pack in the small alley behind the store, pulls out one of the cigarettes and lights it before placing the rest back into his pocket. The first inhale makes him cough loudly, an uncomfortable burn building in his lungs as he takes the second. He leans against the wall behind him, thinks about all the times when they were together and Jensen would smoke as if his life depended on it, and Jared can't help but feel a little bit closer to him as he takes another drag.  
  
He thinks about where Jensen might be now, wonders if he's safe, and hopes more than anything that he's found what he's looking for.  
  
**:::**  
  
The drive from Waco to Austin is about two hours, but the second they reach within a few miles of the capital city the sky opens up and it starts to pour down rain in thick sheets. The slick roads have caused a bad accident that blocks all lanes of the highway, and even at the early hour the traffic is at a complete standstill. By the time they reach the bus station in Austin, it's light outside again.  
  
Jensen grabs their backpacks from the cargo space overhead, places Mackenzie's on her shoulders before slinging his over his own. His legs are stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, his bruised torso aching with each little movement, but he does his best not to think about it. He needs to focus on what's going on around him, where Mackenzie is at all times, where they're going and what's going to happen next.  
  
They catch the bus into downtown just before it departs from the station, and Jensen tells Mackenzie that things are going to be okay soon, that they're almost there.  
  
He sees the building through the window as the bus pulls around the corner and comes to a stop. It's made of large, brown brick, and stands tall next to the public library, _Hope Children's Center_ attached in thick letters high on the front exterior wall. Jensen holds Mackenzie's hand in his as they exit the bus and walk the short distance to the front of the building, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front doors. He kneels down in front of Mackenzie, points at the building before signing _'our new home.'_  
  
When Mackenzie gives him a small nod Jensen forms the letter R with both hands, crosses them one behind the other before pulling them apart. ' _Ready?'_  
  
Mackenzie speaks this time, and Jensen reads the word _yes_ on her lips. It's one of the few words she's spoken since they first left, and somehow it gives Jensen the courage to take her hand again and walk up the steps to the building's entrance.  
  
Inside the front doors and a little off to the left is a reception area, a few chairs and a couch arranged on top of a rug with a few magazines lying on the coffee table in the center. To the right, a woman sits behind a small desk. She gives them a warm smile as they walk up to her.  
  
“Can I help you?” she asks.  
  
Jensen returns the smile and lets go of Mackenzie's hand to reach into his backpack. He pulls out the note that he'd prepared for this very moment, and hands it to the woman. She looks at him with a puzzled expression that melts away as she reads the wrinkled and creased paper.  
  
"You read lips?" she asks as she finishes, folding the note and placing it on the desk beside her.  
  
Jensen nods, eyes fixed on the woman’s face.  
  
"My name is Kristi," she says. "And I'm going to help."  
  
**:::**  
  
They place them in two different clinic rooms down the hall from each other, and Jensen feels like he's going to break apart at the seams. A strong wave of anxiety washes over him as the door closes behind him and he's left staring at an empty room. The anxiety only grows with each tiny move of the second hand of the analog clock on the wall and leaves him biting restlessly at his nails as he waits for the doctor to come in.  
  
He pulls out the lighter in his pocket, flicks the flame on and off with his right hand and holds his left over the flame. He feels the heat lick at his skin, moves his hand even closer to the fire until it starts to burn, the pale flesh of his palm turning pink.  
  
A rush of air blows by him, and Jensen turns to see a middle aged woman wearing a white lab coat over her clothes standing in the open doorway. He watches her carefully as she closes it behind her.  
  
"Hello," she says with a bright smile, and Jensen imagines her voice sugary sweet, like the taste of maple syrup. He does his best to return it, but doesn't seem to have it in him to muster one that would mean anything. He places the lighter back in his pocket, drops his hands into his lap and wonders how many times she's done this before, how many kids have sat where he is now.  
  
"My name is Dr. Lawrence," she says, still smiling as she sits down in a small, rolling office chair across from him. "Jensen, right?"  
  
He nods, neck stiff. Dr. Lawrence takes a moment and flips through what he guesses is the file they've started for him. He doesn't think much could be in there other than his name and age; they've only been here a few hours. He looks up from the papers in her lap to see her watching him closely, like she's waiting for him to do something and he guesses he's missed something she's said. He doesn't care to ask what.  
  
_'Where's my sister? Is she all right?'_ he signs.  
  
Dr. Lawrence shakes her head, apologies lined thick in her face, and his stomach drops for a terrifying moment. Then she says, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand."  
  
Jensen pulls out his notepad, quickly scribbles down what he'd previously signed and shows it to the woman in front of him. She nods when she finishes reading, and Jensen drops his hand.  
  
"Your sister is fine. She's with Kristi in the other room. They're coloring, I believe."  
  
Jensen nods, closes his eyes for a moment as he draws in a slow, deep breath through his nose. He places a hand in his pocket, fingers tracing the cool material of his lighter. He flashes back to just a few days ago, when he was sitting in the park and Jared was telling him that cigarettes give you cancer, and he had to tell him that he was leaving, and the thought of the one good thing he's left behind makes something clench in his chest. Thing was, when Jared had told him that he was scaring him, Jensen's _me too_ had been caught somewhere in his aching limbs.  
  
After a long while he opens his eyes again, pulls out the lighter without so much of a second thought and begins flicking the flame on and off again.  
  
Dr. Lawrence studies him closely, but doesn't tell him to put it away. She nods once, like she understands, like she knows just how fucked up he is. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"  
  
Jensen nods slowly, eyes jumping around the room as he takes it all in and reminds himself that he needs to begin building some kind of trust in the people here. Jared is hundreds of miles away, and he doesn’t have anyone else.


	3. Part Two

**Part Two**  
_No more broken promises,  
No more call to war._  
  
**:::**  
  
Jared can't think.  
  
Mrs. Livingston is staring at him over the top of the thick-lenses of her glasses, and he can't think.  
  
"Sorry. What was the question again?"  
  
A few kids around him snicker, and Jared sinks a little in his chair. The last thing he needs is Mrs. Livingston thinking he's trying to cut up in class.  
  
"Mr. Padalecki," she says disapprovingly. "If you plan on graduating on time, I suggest you start paying attention in my class. Final exams will be here sooner than you think."  
  
Jared can feel his cheeks burning as he mumbles, "Yes ma'am," sinking even lower in his desk. The bell rings, cutting his torture short, and Jared quietly gathers his books, stuffing them in his backpack and slipping into the hallway before Mrs. Livingston has a chance to call him over to her desk to continue her lecture.  
  
"You want to get out of here?" he asks when he finds Sandy by her locker. She's placing her English book inside, pulling out her Calculus notebook and stacking it on top of the spiral already in her arms.  
  
"No way," she says as she checks her hair in the small mirror hanging on the door. "Am I really worthy enough to be graced with the words of Jared Padalecki?" she finishes sarcastically.  
  
"Okay. I deserved that," Jared says. "I'm sorry for acting like–"  
  
"A jerk. A moron. A shitty friend. Should I continue?"  
  
"No. I think I got it," he sighs. "I'm really sorry, Sandy. I shouldn't have acted like that. I've just been in a weird mood this last week."  
  
"Gee, ya think?” Sandy says, and even though her back is to him Jared can practically feel her roll her eyes. After one last check of her hair she closes her locker door and turns to face him. “If you mope around anymore, they're going to name a depressant after you."  
  
"I'm not moping," Jared says. "I'm just–"  
  
"Something like, Padalecodine." Sandy continues as if he hadn't said anything. "Or Alcoholecki."  
  
" _Sandy_."  
  
She falls quiet for a moment before she starts talking again. "So I heard these... rumors,” she starts, voice cautious. “About Jensen. Is it true? Is he really missing?"  
  
Jared sighs again, inhaling and exhaling long and deep. "Yeah. His mom came to my house the other day looking for him. Mackenzie too."  
  
"That's so scary. Nothing like that ever happens around here, you know? Do they think he was kidnapped or something?"  
  
"I don't know," Jared lies, eyes focused downward. "I haven't really heard anything else about it."  
  
"So I guess that explains why you've been so moody," Sandy states. "You and Jensen were always really close." She takes a dramatic pause before adding with a small smile, "Well, I guess I can forgive you… just this once."  
  
Jared laughs a little. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. You look like death, by the way."  
  
"Ouch," Jared says, shifting the straps of his backpack. "Thank you."  
  
She frowns. "And since when do you smoke?"  
  
"Who says I smoke?"  
  
"Oh please, Jared, I can smell it on you from all the way down the hall."  
  
Jared just shrugs. "Look, I just got bitched out by Mrs. Livingston and my head feels like it's going to fucking blow off and I just can't be here anymore."  
  
"Yeah, you along with every other kid in this miserable school," she responds offhandedly. She bites at her lip, and Jared can tell she's thinking whether it's worth the grounding to skip class. He thinks she's about to say no when she opens her mouth and says, "Okay, I'll go. But only if you tell me what's going on in that weird head of yours."  
  
"Sandy..."  
  
"No. Seriously, Jared. If you think I'm oblivious enough not to notice that something is off..."  
  
"You know I don't think that, Sandy."  
  
"Then let's go somewhere and talk. Enough with the whole avoidance thing already."  
  
Jared pinches the bridge of his nose, sags against the row of lockers as he closes his eyes. "God I can't fucking think straight anymore."  
  
"Do you trust me?" Sandy asks, and Jared nods, eyes still closed. "You know you can tell me anything. We've always been in things together. I want to help."  
  
The tardy bell rings, and Jared opens his eyes to see the halls have emptied, a few stragglers running to try and slip into class late without being caught. He pushes himself up from the wall. "So are you driving or am I?"  
  
**:::**  
  
They end up going to Mini's Café. It's the same place Jared has been with Jensen so many times before, the same place he waited for him the day he told him he was leaving, and the thought of going back there now makes Jared's stomach turn a little, but it's one of Sandy's favorite places and he figures since he's been such an ass to her lately, it's the least he can do.  
  
They sit at a table in the corner, and Jared watches as Sandy eats the French fries she's ordered.  
  
"I can't believe you of all people passed up on the opportunity to eat completely unhealthy food," she says as she dips a fry into a mound of ketchup.  
  
"Yeah yeah," Jared says and throws his balled up straw wrapper at her.  
  
Sandy dips her last fry into the ketchup before pushing the small, empty container to the side. "So." She rubs her hands together like she's gearing up for a fight. "What's going on?"  
  
Jared bites at his lip. He thinks about making something up, then thinks about telling her the truth for a fleeting moment before quickly reminding himself just how bad of an idea that would be.  
  
"Are you in trouble?"  
  
Jared looks up. "Huh?"  
  
"I said, are you in some kind of trouble?"  
  
Jared watches the condensation drip down the side of his cup of ice water. "I... well, no. I guess not."  
  
"Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, I'm just – I don't know." He traces the water droplets with his finger. "I don’t think I know much of anything, anymore."  
  
"You miss Jensen," she says, like it's just that simple.  
  
Maybe, when it's all said and done, it is.

"Yeah," Jared breathes after a while. "I miss Jensen."   
  
**:::**  
  
Chris has long, chocolate brown hair that just reaches his shoulders and continually falls in his eyes. It was the first thing Jensen had noticed about him when they'd met shortly after he'd come to the Center, the way he shook his head to remove the hair from his face instantly reminding him so much of Jared that for a second, he stood frozen, simply staring. It had prompted Chris to come over to him, ask him if he'd seen a ghost or something, and sparked some immediate connection between them. He soon found out that Chris is really nothing like Jared at all. He’s a musician where Jared always says he can break windows with his voice if he tried, is more reserved when Jared sometimes seems to have no filter at all, but he's nice to Jensen, and though it doesn't fill the void of being away from Jared, it helps to have someone that can make him smile again.  
  
It's a lazy Friday afternoon and they're playing a game of pool when Kristi walks into the common room. Jensen is laughing softly at Chris' latest horrible shot that didn't reach anywhere near the hole he'd intended it to reach when she taps him on the shoulder. He turns to her mid-smile.  
  
"You have a meeting with Dr. Lawrence at three o'clock, remember?" she says.  
  
"Aw come on Kristi," Chris cuts in, his mouth moving lazily. "Jensen's been kicking my ass all day. I'm finally about to win one."  
  
"Then you can challenge him to a rematch when he gets back. He's already late," she replies, glancing at the clock before she turns her attention to Jensen. "You ready?"  
  
Jensen wants to say _no, not really,_ but he doesn't, just waves goodbye to Chris and follows Kristi down the hall towards Dr. Lawrence's office. He doesn't like therapy, doesn’t like talking to other people about all that has happened to him and the communication barrier only adds to that frustration, but it's part of the program and he's required go at least twice a week. If it means he and Mackenzie have a safe place to stay, then he'll do whatever it takes.  
  
"I had to drag him down here kicking and screaming," Kristi says playfully to Dr. Lawrence as they make it to her office. She's sitting at her desk filling out what looks like an overwhelming amount of paperwork, but she still smiles brightly at Jensen as he sits down in the vacant chair opposite her.  
  
"Sorry my office is such a mess," Dr. Lawrence says as she gathers up the papers in front of her and places them in a neat stack off to her left. She reaches down and grabs Jensen's file from within the small filing cabinet in her desk. "So," she says, shoulders rising and falling with the word. "Should we get started?"  
  
Jensen remembers how when he was little, he used to be fearless. He had a superman cape that he wore to kindergarten almost every day, and he used to pretend he could deflect anything that came his way whenever he had it on, fabric flying up behind him as he ran around the playground. He remembers how the first time his dad put his hands on him, he was wearing that cape, and when he tried to hide his face behind it his dad just ripped it from around his neck, tearing it along the seams. To him it was nothing. To Jensen, it was his whole world. His mom bought him a new one a few days later, promising it was just like the last and apologizing like she was the one who had left the hand-shaped bruise on his cheek, but he never wore it. He was no superhero, just a kid whose dad didn't love him like the other kids’ dads did.  
  
It’s a long hour spent in her office, glued to the over-sized leather chair and wanting more than anything to rewind time and go back to when he still thought he was invincible, when nothing could touch him and the promises of the world seemed endless.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen bites at his nails as he sits on the back steps that lead from the Center to the backyard area. There's a small playground with a few swings, some monkey bars and a slide, and he watches Mackenzie run around with the other younger kids, the wind catching her hair and causing the her sweater to blow back behind her. One of the girls whispers something into her ear when they stop near the swings to catch their breath, and they share a glance before Mackenzie starts to laugh, head thrown back and eyes closed. It doesn't take long for the other girl to follow.  
  
A heavy hand rests on his shoulder and he jumps, body tensing at the light touch.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Chris says as he sits down next to him. "It's just me."  
  
Jensen takes in a deep breath, releases it in a slow stream from his lips as his pounding heart begins to slow. He looks back out at the playground, sees Mackenzie playing hopscotch on the concrete. They sit there in silence for a long while, so long that Jensen almost forgets Chris is there until he reaches out and places his hands on top of Jensen's. "You're shaking," he says.  
  
Jensen just bites at his lip, doesn't really have the energy to try and respond in a way that Chris will understand.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Jensen drops his eyes from Chris' face, the uneasiness that had settled in his stomach during therapy growing ever more present. Chris reaches out and lifts his chin, and the sadness on Jensen's face must be obvious because he says, "No. No, you're not okay." The expression lined in Chris' forehead, in the tightness of his eyes and frown of his mouth, is one that Jensen hasn't seen before. He can see the sadness there, but it’s lined with something else he can't quite name.  
  
"Let's fucking get out of here, man," Chris says suddenly, standing up and brushing off the back of his pants.  
  
Jensen shakes his head this time, points out to the yard to where his sister is pushing another girl on the swings.  
  
"Mackenzie will be fine. It's just for a few hours. I think we could both blow off some steam."  
  
Mackenzie comes running over to him then, her friend following close at her heels. When she stops she's visibly out of breath, and she rests her hands on Jensen's knees. He places the middle fingers of each hand on his chest, flicking them upward slightly as he offers a small smile. _What's up?_  
  
Her smile falters a bit, the laughter falling away from her face as she says, "You look sad."  
  
Jensen shakes his head no, and tells her that he isn't sad, just tired. He reaches out and pinches her nose, causing her to scrunch up her face and a timid smile to return after he's dropped his hand. ' _Go,'_ Jensen signs. _'Play with your friend._ '  
  
She hesitates a moment as her friend starts to tug her arm back towards the yard, and when Jensen nods slightly she waves goodbye and runs off, the wind catching her hair again.  
  
"See," Chris says after he taps Jensen's shoulder to get his attention. "She's fine."  
  
Jensen isn't sure what makes him go. The sun is starting to set, the darkness of the night fast approaching, but he finds himself standing anyway. Sometimes the need to forget runs so thick through his veins that it overpowers everything. It makes him wonder if he's always going to be on the run, hiding from the past and looking for something he's never going to be able to find. 

 **:::**  
  
Chris leads Jensen to a residential neighborhood, where the cars are parked on the grass and people sit out on their porch long after the sun has gone down, talking and smoking and drinking beer from the small cooler at their feet. Jensen's not sure where they're headed, is about to ask when he feels a tug on his arm.  
  
"It's this one," Chris says, turning left and walking up the sidewalk leading to the house. The dirty white paint of the door frame is peeling, leaving the dark wood beneath exposed. Chris knocks, shoots a smirk in Jensen's direction just before the door opens, revealing an older man with graying stubble on his chin standing in the entryway.  
  
"Hey, honey," the guy says, a slick look in his eyes, and Jensen watches him cup his hand on the back of Chris’ neck and pull him in roughly for a kiss. Chris pulls away as the man's hand drifts down to the waist of his pants, smooth fingers wrapping around his calloused hand.  
  
"Not now, baby. You know what I need first."  
  
The guy gives a small nod, looks over at Jensen as if he's just noticing him for the first time and he can see him ask, "You brought a friend?"  
  
"Yeah," Chris responds. "This is Jensen, my friend from the Center I told you about."  
  
Jensen can't help the shiver that runs through him as he feels the guy's eyes travel up and down his body. "Mmm… you sure know how to pick them."  
  
"He's not here to fuck," Chris says forcefully, then smooths his words over with another kiss and whispers something against his ear. "So are you going to let us in or what?"  
  
The guy smiles, moves aside. "You know the way."  
  
Jensen follows Chris through the house and down into a dimly lit basement. Chris grabs two bottles from the refrigerator in the corner, handing one to Jensen and keeping the other one for himself as they settle down on the old, beaten down couch set against the wall. The man, whose name Jensen never caught, is sitting in a recliner opposite them, an unsettling heat in his stare as he watches Chris light up a cigarette and place it between his lips. Jensen takes a drink from the cold beer in his hand, ignoring its bitter taste and the guilt that follows each swallow, ignoring the tickle at the back of his head that keeps telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that he shouldn't be here. He looks around the small room as Chris carries on a conversation, noting the way he looks down every so often with an expression on his face that told Jensen he knew just how fucked up this whole thing was.  
  
"Here," Chris says after a while, handing his cigarette over to Jensen to finish as he reaches for a small bag of weed lying on the messy coffee table. It's covered in old, dirty magazines, empty cans and bottles, waste from the overflowing ashtray at the end covering the surface. Chris moves it all aside to clear a space as he carefully rolls a joint, thin fingers shaking ever so slightly as he finishes and brings his hand up to light the end.  
  
"Come closer," Chris says under heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
Jensen finishes off the cigarette, mashing the end into the ashtray and closing the small space between them on the couch. Chris places the joint to his mouth and inhales deeply, moving even closer to him so that their lips brush before he exhales the smoke into Jensen's mouth.  
  
"Breathe," he whispers.  
  
Jensen does, savoring the smoke, heart beat quickening as he waits for the faint trace of a high spread throughout his body. Chris leans in close again, exhaling the smoke into his mouth a second time and Jensen leans back against the cushions of the couch, closes his eyes.  
  
When he opens them again, Chris is smiling lazily down at him. "Good?"  
  
Jensen nods, closing his eyes again and losing himself in the feeling.  
  
Chris shakes him awake later, hair ruffled and clothes disheveled, and as they leave Jensen sees the older man passed out on the couch upstairs, nothing covering him but a thin sheet. There are spoons and used needles discarded carelessly on the floor and Jensen hadn't realized he'd stopped walking until Chris is pulling him forward, eyes dark in the dim light.  
  
"Don't ask," he says.  
  
Jensen doesn't.

 **:::**  
  
  
"So I heard that kid Mike is throwing some party tonight," Chad is saying as he and Jared sit down at the lunch table. Sandy is already there, along with Tom and Danneel, and they're carrying on some conversation about the latest episode of _Survivor_.

"Did someone mention a party?" Tom says. "You know I'm down."  
  
"Yeah," Chad continues. "Mike – you know that kid whose parents are like never in town – is throwing some rager. Free alcohol. Girls in bikinis. _Drunk_ girls in bikinis..."  
  
"Wow. That sounds like loads of fun," Sandy adds sarcastically.  
  
Chad rolls his eyes. "That's why no one was talking to you. So anyway, _Jared,_ you want to go?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Jared responds, dipping his fork into the spaghetti on his tray. "Whatever." He can feel Sandy's sharp stare in his direction.  
  
"Jared, you've reeked of smoke and alcohol since –" She stops when Jared's eyes snap to her, mouth set in a thin line. She lets out a sigh. "Look, all I'm saying is maybe you should slow down a bit."  
  
"No," he says simply, eyes dropping back down to his food. Suddenly he's not very hungry.  
  
Chad smirks. "Give him a break, Sandy," he cuts in. "He's going through a rebel phase."  
  
Sandy gives him her best _go to hell_ look before turning back to Jared. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice dropping low so that only he can hear it.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "I'm always okay."  
  
**:::**  
  
Jared has always been a clumsy person, but as he climbs the tree outside of his second story room window, all the alcohol he's had tonight doesn't allow him to find the little coordination he does have, and he slips to the ground with a thud.  
  
Chad looks down at him, giggling hysterically like a twelve-year-old girl, and Jared just groans.  
  
"Dude, _shut up._ You're going to wake up my parents."  
  
Chad manages a soft apology in between giggles, and Jared pulls himself up from the ground to try again, waiting until the tree stops swaying before climbing back up. He's able to reach the top this time, but as he pulls himself over to the roof below his window a stray branch catches his shirt and rips a long tear in the thin material.  
  
"Shit!" Chad is rolling on the ground now, and the moment Jared is able to open the latch and pull up his window he yells at him to fuck off.  
  
"Dude, I think I have the munchies."  
  
"Yeah. That's great. How about going home and raiding the refrigerator?" Chad had gotten wasted at the party and smoked whatever he could get his hands on before Jared had even had a chance to really get drunk, and because he's such an awesome friend he decided he'd take some responsibility and at least set him on the right way home.  
  
Chad hops up at the suggestion. "Oh my God. Jared, you're a genius!"  
  
"Yeah, I know. Try not to wake up the whole neighborhood on the way home."  
  
Chad giggles again as he makes his way to the sidewalk. "I'll try," he calls over his shoulder. "But I make no promises."  
  
Jared rolls his eyes and slides ungracefully into his room, landing awkwardly on the floor. His elbow connects with the corner of his dresser, sending a shooting pain up his arm.  
  
"Ow. _Fuck_ ," he moans.  
  
He hears footsteps coming down the hallway and scrambles to spray himself thickly with cologne before plopping down in the chair in front of his desk, an open textbook thankfully already resting on top of it. The knock on his door comes barely a few seconds later.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's me," his mom says as she opens the door. She's wearing her pajamas, a mix-match of old clothes and fuzzy slippers, and her hair is in a loose ponytail. She looks exhausted, like she'd been awakened in the middle of a good dream and hasn't been able to fall asleep again. "What are you doing up so late? Do you have any idea what time it is?"  
  
Jared leans back in his chair. "No," he says, glancing over at his alarm clock. It's almost four in the morning. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"  
  
"No," his mom says, and leans against the door frame. "I went to get a glass of water and thought I heard someone giggling, so I wanted to make sure your sister wasn’t up to something. Then I saw your light still on and figured I'd come see what's up." She looks like she wants to say something else but can't seem to decide on how to word it, so she settles for, “Everything okay?”  
  
Jared rubs his eyes. "I've got a big test Monday, figured I'd get most of my studying out of the way now."  
  
"Oh yeah?" his mom asks, then adds, "I swear you kids have more work than I ever had when I was your age."  
  
"Thanks, Mom. That's real comforting." Jared smiles a little.  
  
"I'm just saying," she chuckles softly. "And don't you start making any jokes about my age."  
  
"I wasn't going to," Jared replies, looking down at the undone homework in front of him. "I should probably get back to work. Still got a lot to do."  
  
"All right." A pause, then, "Are sure you're okay? You don't seem like you've been sleeping a lot lately."  
  
"Yeah I'm fine," Jared responds, stopping short of spinning off some deeper lie. He doesn't have the energy.  
  
"If you're worried about Jensen –"  
  
"No," Jared cuts in quickly. "I'm just – I've got a lot to do. I really should get back to work."  
  
"Okay," she says, but the worry doesn't fade from her expression. "See you in a few hours, then."  
  
She leaves as quietly as she'd entered, and Jared stares at the door a long time after she's left. It's been three weeks since Jensen left, three weeks since Mrs. Ackles knocked on their door in the middle of the night looking for him, three weeks that Jared has been left in the dark, wondering if Jensen is all right and missing him so much more than he ever thought he could.  
  
He doesn't like to think about what that means.


	4. Part Three

**Part Three**  
_We've been looking for a song to sing,  
searched for a melody,  
searched for someone to lead._  
  
**:::**  
  
Chris finds Jensen sitting on the edge of the bed in his room. He's playing with a lighter, flicking the flame on and off, and the way he holds the fire dangerously close to his skin makes Chris' stomach turn a little. He turns the light on and off to catch Jensen's attention even though he has a feeling Jensen already knew he was standing there, just didn't want to look up.  
  
"I'm bored," Chris announces.  
  
Jensen just looks at him with an expression that seems to say _and your point?_  
  
"And you're brooding," Chris continues. "So let's go do something. This place is depressing."  
  
_If you play with fire, you're going to get burned,_ Jensen thinks, thumb still flicking the flame on and off.  
  
"Hey." One of Chris' hands rests on his shoulder, the other taking the lighter from his hand and tossing it down onto the nightstand by the bed. "Fight fire with fire, right?"  
  
**:::**  
  
Sometimes, people forget Jensen has a voice.  
  
**:::**  
  
Cold. The first thing Jensen notices is that he’s cold, and he doesn’t really have time to register where he is before he’s being pushed up against the uneven brick of the bar.  
  
A rush of air hits his chest, freezes him in place as he feels his shirt lifted up over his head, warm hands placing themselves over chilled skin, rough lips attaching themselves to his. Hands. Touching his face, his neck, his chest.  
  
The body intertwining with his pulls away long enough to breathe, and Jensen’s eyes search for some familiarity but he finds none. The alley is empty and the person in front of him is stranger, an older man with short, black hair and a pierced tongue. He leans in again, mouth sucking at the line of his jaw, and Jensen’s hands grip at the wall behind him, scramble for purchase.  
  
The bar. He was in the bar. Flashing lights. Music traveling in vibrations through the wall, down into the floor and up through his chest. A kiss, something slipped into his mouth, a silent command to swallow.  
  
The hands on his chest travel down to his navel, rest just above the waist of his pants for a moment before they fumble with the zipper. He’s cupped through his boxers, lips moving back up to his and the man shifts his stance so that his hard on rubs against Jensen’s.  
  
The friction makes Jensen hum deep in his throat, and he hopes it sounds like enough of a protest for the man to stop. This isn't what he wants. This isn't –  
  
"Oh fuck, baby. You sound so fucking hot."  
  
The guy reaches down and pulls Jensen’s cock from his boxers, pushing down his own pants as he takes his length and begins rubbing it against Jensen's and _this isn't what he wants_ but he can't fucking _think,_ can't remember how to tell him to stop.  
  
The rhythm speeds up, and Jensen moans when he spills into the guy's rough hand, the stranger in front of him not too far behind. They stand, frozen together and breathing heavily for what feels like eternity before the man takes a step back. He sucks the come from his fingers, leans in and kisses Jensen, working the taste into his mouth.  
  
"Mysterious, silent type," he says when he finally pulls away. "I like that."  
  
And just like that, he’s gone.  
  
**:::**  
  
Sometimes, people forget Jensen has a voice. Sometimes, he does too.  
  
**:::**  
  
A rush of the bone chilling wind seems to jump start Jensen's head again, and he remembers that he's standing there exposed, his pants having fallen down to his ankles and his shirt lying in a forgotten heap on the ground. He slowly reaches down, pulls his pants back up before slipping on his discarded shirt, and slides down onto the cold concrete beneath him. He closes his eyes, pulls his knees close to his chest and rests his head on top of them. He's tired, so, so tired, and his limbs feel so heavy he doesn't know if he'd be able to stand even if he tried.  
  
"Jensen?"  
  
A rough hand lands on his shoulder and Jensen flinches, slowly lifts his head and finds himself staring up into Chris' worried eyes.  
  
"Jesus," he breathes. "I've been trying to find you.” He rubs at his arms as if he’s just now noticing the cold. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing."  
  
Jensen just stares at him. His head is still cloudy, his thoughts and body sluggish, and he's having a hard time concentrating on what Chris is saying to him.  
  
Chris frowns, kneels down. And then he gets it.  
  
"Oh _fuck_."  
  
Jensen watches the muscles in Chris' face drop into a look akin of horror.  
  
"Jensen," he says. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?"  
  
Jensen does nothing, just watches as Chris stands up, runs a hand through his long hair and takes a step back. "Fuck," he repeats, and the cloud of air his breath makes catches Jensen's attention. He's sad to see it disappear a few seconds later.  
  
Chris starts to pace back and forth, walking to the left a few steps before turning back around and walking a few more steps in the opposite direction. Jensen vaguely remembers seeing him do that a few times before, but he doesn't have time to think about what that means before his stomach clenches painfully and he's leaning over to the side, vomit spilling from his lips and burning his throat. He feels his vocal chords vibrate gently as he groans, bringing a hand down to brace himself against the concrete.  
  
He feels Chris' hand land softly on his back, rubbing in small circles before it disappears and replaces itself underneath his arms as he begins to be lifted to his feet.

 

  


 

**:::**

He wakes up in the clinic. It's the same room he was in the first night he came to the Center, and the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the Dr. Lawrence looking down at him. Her fingers press against his wrist to check his pulse and Jensen blinks against the bright lights, eyebrows furrowing as the throb in his head hits him full force.

"Welcome back," she says, a soft expression on her face. "You had us all worried."

Jensen swallows thickly, licks his dry lips. He grimaces at the bitter taste in his mouth, and is thankful for the cup of water Dr. Lawrence helps him sip after propping him up slightly. The cool liquid feels good as he swallows, slides down his sore throat smoothly. When he's finished, it takes him a long time to muster up the courage to meet her eyes.

"You can't do this, Jensen." She crosses her arms across her chest, posture determined. "It doesn’t take away the pain forever. You're only hurting yourself more."

Jensen picks at the plastic ridge of the cup in his hand.

"The therapy, I _know_ it's hard, but you have to talk to me. Whatever is going on in here," she says as she taps her head, "I need to know so that I can help you. It only hurts you to keep it locked away." She pauses, and Jensen can see her searching his face. "It's time to stop running."

Jensen wipes at his face, slowly brings his hand up and signs _'OK.'_

Dr. Lawrence nods, her expression somber. "Okay," she repeats, and gently pats his leg. "Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

**:::**

Dinner at the Padalecki home is at six o'clock every evening. It's a family affair, where everyone in the house stops what they're doing for half an hour to sit at the table together, share a meal and talk about their day. Tonight though, everyone is quiet, leaving an uneasy air hanging over them as they eat the meal Sharon has prepared.

"How come Jared never eats dinner with us anymore?" Megan asks, breaking the silence.

Sharon and Gerry share an uncertain glance, any response they would have given cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jared comes shuffling through, closing the door behind him with a dull thud.

"I'm home," he says from the foyer, not even bothering to make his way to the kitchen. He slips out of his shoes, drops his bag by the stairs, and heads up to his room without another word.

**:::**

Sharon is in the middle of teaching a lesson on the use of pronouns when the phone in her classroom rings. She takes the call out in the hallway, expecting to hear from her husband, or maybe Megan asking if she can go home with a friend after school, and is surprised to hear a woman's voice on the other end.

"I'm Lara Crawford from East Central High, calling on behalf of Jared Padalecki. Is this Mrs. Sharon Padalecki?"

"Yes, this is she." She takes in a deep breath, braces herself.

"I'm one of the counselors here at the high school, and I've noticed several truancies and tardies that have come up on Jared's record lately. I was just calling to check in, see if there are any problems in the home that you felt needed to be brought to our attention."

"I should have known,” she says on a sigh, rubbing a hand over her face. “He's been leaving the house for school every morning. I thought he was going to class." She pauses, shakes her head slightly. "He's been... going through a rough time, ever since his friend Jensen went missing."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the woman says, her voice sympathetic. "But I'm afraid if he misses too many more days he's in danger of failing the semester."

Sharon tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, closes her eyes and takes a moment to compose herself. "I don't know what to say," she admits finally. "We've tried talking to him but nothing seems to get through."

"We can set up a time for him to come in if you'd like. He seems like just such a bright kid, has never been in any trouble that I can see until now. I'd hate for him not to graduate on time."

"Thank you," Sharon says. "That'd be great."

**:::**

Sandy is waiting outside Jared's house when he leaves for school in the morning. When he sees her, his response is far from pleased.

"What are you doing here?" he asks as he adjusts the straps of his backpack to rest further up on his shoulders.

"Why do you always seem to greet me like that these days?" she retorts. "A simple 'hey Sandy' would suffice."

"Okay. Hey Sandy. What are you doing here?"

Sandy stands from where she was seated on the front steps. "Oh, I get it. It's going to be one of _those_ days."

Jared sighs heavily and makes his way down the steps, brushing by her without a second glance.

“Come _on_ , Jared,” Sandy says, following him. He stops walking suddenly, and if she weren’t paying closer attention she wouldn’t have had time to stop herself from barreling into him. She takes a step back, gathers herself.

"Go. _Away_ ," Jared says, each word angry and punctuated.

Sandy looks down at the ground but doesn't move, feet planted stubbornly against the concrete. When she finally looks back up again, her face is dark, angry despite the hurt swirling inside her. "You know Jared, you may not give a fuck about anything anymore but I do, and if I have to care enough for the both of us then I guess that's how it’s going to be."

"You think you have any idea what I'm going through?" Jared shouts, words coming out of his mouth in a rush before he can stop them. "You don't even have a clue, Sandy!"

"Because you won't tell me anything! You'd rather drink and party than deal with your shit." There's a pause before she adds in a low voice, "You're nothing more than a coward."

"Fuck you," Jared spits, his words carrying more rage and disdain than Sandy's ever seen in him. He stares at her, eyes challenging, and when she doesn't respond he turns and walks away without another word.

Sandy watches him go from the front of his house, and wonders when they all became so broken.

 

**:::**  
  
Jensen's room is empty when Chris goes to look for him sometime in the afternoon. He knew Jensen would be taking it easy these next few days, and Chris hasn't seen much of him since he'd been released from the clinic yesterday morning. He makes his way to the first floor, where he finds Kristi sitting at the reception desk by the entrance.

"Hey, have you seen Jensen?" he asks. "He's not in his room."

Kristi doesn't look up from whatever she's typing on the computer screen. "Hmm?"

"Jensen," Chris repeats, bouncing impatiently on his heels. "Have you seen him?"

"Oh. No, sorry. I haven't seen him." She looks up at him, tapping her fingers lightly against her chin. "Did you check the cafeteria or the common rooms?"

"Yeah. He's not in his room either."

Kristi's brow crinkles for a moment. "He's probably just in the bathroom or something. He hasn't left. I've been here all day."

That’s when it hits him. He turns and heads off at a dead run.

"Let me know when you find him!" Kristi calls out after him.

The bathrooms. How did he not think of that? He should have checked them first. He's seen Jensen's scars, the way he holds his hands next to fire; he knows what Jensen's capable of doing to himself.

It feels like it takes him hours to make it back upstairs to Jensen's floor, hours to make it to the end of the hall. He pushes the bathroom door open so hard that it bangs loudly as it crashes against the wall but he hardly even notices.

All he sees is Jensen. Sitting on the floor, razor in hand and forearms cut and marked as they rest exposed in his lap.

Jensen doesn't look up as he enters or as he falls at his side in an instant, time seeming to lock into place again as he gently takes the blade from Jensen and holds his hands together. He reaches up and drops the razor in the sink, grabbing the small hand towel hanging from the wall and pressing it against the expert red lines marking Jensen's skin.

"I'm not going to let you," Chris says, tilting Jensen's chin up so he can read his lips. "I know I fucked things up, and I'm so sorry. _God_ you have no idea how much I wish I could take that night back, but you can't do this – you just fucking can't. You're not allowed to give up." Chris swallows thickly. "You're - You're _good,_ Jensen. You're the one of us that's supposed to make it. You can’t give up."

Jensen doesn't respond, just closes his eyes, and Chris pulls his head forward to rest against his shoulder. He feels Jensen shudder, pull away, and when Chris looks in his eyes it kills him how much pain he sees there, how much hurt and sadness Jensen holds inside of him and knowing he’s partly responsible for it being there.

"It's going to be okay," he says, wondering how many people have made the same promise to him before, but still whispering the words all the same. "I promise, it'll be okay."  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen paces. He walks past the bookshelves lining the wall to the plant in the corner, turns, and walks the length of the bookshelves again. His fingers trace over the smooth wood, and he focuses more on the feel against his fingertips than the questions he’s being asked.  
  
"Jensen," Dr. Lawrence says patiently, motioning with her arm towards his empty chair. "Please come sit down."  
  
Jensen remembers sneaking out late at night once everyone in his house had long fallen asleep. He’d walk down the street to Jared’s house, look over his shoulder to make sure all the lights were still off back at his house before climbing up the tree to the roof. Most of the time Jared would open the window for him to crawl inside, and they’d lay there on the bed, Jared’s body warm against his as Jensen closed his eyes, ran his fingers over smooth skin and the soft blankets beneath them.  
  
Sometimes, Jared would be asleep, but he’d still stay out there on the roof anyway. He’d look up at the stars; give names to the ones that shined the brightest, make up stories about the faintest.  
  
The last time he’d snuck out, it was one of those nights when Jared was asleep. He doesn’t remember how long he stayed there, sitting on the roof and looking up at the heavens, but he does remember everything that happened when he came home. He’d gotten careless, didn’t keep track of how long he was gone, didn’t double check that his dad’s breathing was deep enough to constitute him being passed out and it to be safe for him to leave.  
  
When Jensen opened the door to come back inside, his dad was waiting for him in the entryway.  
  
“You with that boy again?”  
  
Jensen swallowed thickly, nod so faint he wasn’t sure he’d even moved at all.  
  
The first whips of the belt landed across his abdomen, sent him doubling over only to be struck again on the small of his back. He fell to his knees, breath heavy as he tried to center himself around the pain. When his dad had finally had enough, Jensen lie panting on the cold tile of the entryway, body aching and tears stinging his eyes.  
  
Two days later, he’d said his goodbyes and was on his way out of town, headed for a place that was the only hope he had left.  
  
“Jensen,” Dr. Lawrence tries again. She watches as he stops pacing, arms folding protectively around his middle. The touch that falls on his arm is brief, but he jolts as if he’d been shocked and his head snaps up to her, face clouded.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she says and quickly pulls her hand back. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She pauses for a long while, watches him visibly gather himself before asking, "Where were you just then?"  
  
Jensen shakes his head, pointing towards the door to her office.  
  
Dr. Lawrence shakes her head. "We still have time left. We still have things we need to sort out."  
  
Jensen’s lip catches between his teeth and he looks away.  
  
"Tell me where you were just then," she repeats, handing him his notepad and pen. "Try."  
  
Jensen looks at her, eyes searching before he slowly reaches out and takes the items from her hands.  
  
**home** , he writes, hand shaking so hard it makes his handwriting crooked and broken.  
  
Dr. Lawrence reads the word, gives and encouraging nod. "That’s good, Jensen," she says. "That's a start. Can you tell me what was happening at home?"  
  
A longer pause, then, **lots of drinking. anger. yelling** **and**  
  
Jensen stops writing suddenly, and when he doesn't look like he's going to finish Dr. Lawrence urges him to continue. "And what, Jensen. Yelling and what?" Another long hesitation before he writes,  
  
**hitting**  
  
"Who was hitting you?"  
  
Jensen looks up from the paper, pained eyes meeting Dr. Lawrence's and making her heart ache. _'Dad_ ,' he signs, arm and fingers stiff as he moves them. He drops his hand to his side, shoulders slumping like he’s exhausted all of his energy. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes over the last hour finally spill down his cheeks, his body beginning to shake as his head dips down to his chest, shame and embarrassment creeping red up his neck.  
  
"Okay, okay," Dr. Lawrence says softly, her hand rubbing small circles on his back. "It's okay."  
  
Jensen slowly lifts his head, the tears on his face shining when they catch the light.  
  
"You did great today, Jensen," she says. "I'm proud of you."  
  
Jensen nods slowly once, signs _'Are we finished?'_  
  
"Yes," Dr. Lawrence answers sadly. "We're finished for today. You can go."  
  
**:::**  
  
"Mmm 'ello." Sandy’s voice is gravelly and rough, laced thickly with sleep as it comes through the phone’s receiver. It's late, really, really late, and for a moment Jared considers hanging up, but his head clears enough for him to realize that he's already called and woken her up; it would be kind of pointless to hang up now.  
  
"Jared?"  
  
He clears his throat. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, it's me." He's walking the length of his room, back and forth, back and forth. He can't remember the last time he's slept through the night, guesses it was probably before Jensen left.  
  
He can hear the sound of sheets rustling, and Sandy asks, "Where are you? Are you okay?"  
  
Jared stops walking, rubs a hand over his tired face. "No." He shakes his head. "No, I don't think so."  
  
"What is it?" The sleepiness has faded from Sandy's voice, replaced with a sense of worry, urgency.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says. "About the other day. I shouldn't have said those things or snapped at you like that."  
  
Sandy's voice is quiet as she says, "It’s okay. We're both going through a lot right now."  
  
"Yeah," Jared says. There's a heavy silence between them for a long while, and Jared takes in a deep breath. "I need to tell you something, Sandy."  
  
"Sure," she says. "You know you can tell me anything."  
  
"I'm..." he begins, his voice trailing off. “Fuck, Sandy, I think... I think I'm gay."


	5. Part Four

**Part Four**  
_I was looking for a song to sing,_  
searched for a leader,  
but the leader was me.  
Put down the arms and raise your voice.  
We're joining hands today.

 **:::**  
  
Sandy isn't as surprised as Jared thought she would be when he finally lets his tongue slide. He tells her about Jensen's fucked up family, how his dad beat him and called him names, how he would break Jensen over and over until Jared thought he wasn't going to make it through, only to be surprised by how strong Jensen was, how he kept himself going for Mackenzie's sake.  
  
"I've seen some of the bruises on his arms," she says, falling quiet for a moment. "And the scars."  
  
Jared nods, gaze downcast and saddened. "It was how he dealt with it sometimes. He tried to explain it to me once, said it was like the only pain in his life that he could control. Somehow it made things better."  
  
Sandy lets out a long breath and picks at the light pink polish on her nails. "Okay," she says slowly. "So that explains a lot, but you still never said where he is, and why he's missing." A look of shock flashes across her face. "Oh God," she breathes, "His dad didn't _kill_ him, did he? Shit Jared, tell me he's not dead."  
  
Jared looks up at her, the terror in her face matching what he's been feeling ever since Jensen left. "I... Honestly, Sandy, I don't know. I don't know where he is or if Mackenzie is with him or anything."  
  
"Oh God," she repeats quietly.  
  
"I always knew he had planned on running, but we were just talking about it and I always thought he was going to wait until after graduation, until he was eighteen and had his own place so that Mackenzie could live with him. I was going to help. I was going to fucking help him." Jared realizes that he's rambling, but he's been holding everything inside for so long that he can't seem to help himself. "But he just left. His dad had left bruises all over his stomach. God, they were some of the worst I’d seen on him in a long time. I could tell he hadn't slept in days... That was the last time I saw him."  
  
Sandy reaches out from where she sits on the opposite end of Jared's bed and places her hand on top of his. His fingers are intertwined, and he picks at the skin surrounding his nail with his thumb. "You know this isn't your fault," she says.  
  
Jared gives a small nod, responds with a soft, "I know." He swallows thickly. "But I miss him so, so much, and it's scaring the shit out of me how much I think about him, how much I worry about him all the time."  
  
"Jared..."  
  
"I wasn't enough," he says, voice even softer than before.  
  
“There’s no way you could have handled something like that by yourself, Jared. I’m sure Jensen knew that.” Sandy falls quiet again, and Jared stares at her through the messy bangs hanging over his eyes. "Have you... you know, talked to your parents about this? Or come out to them?"  
  
Jared shakes his head. "No. You're the only one I've told." He looks down for a long while, and Sandy can almost see the struggle going on inside him when he finally looks back up again. "What am I supposed to do, Sandy? My parents have already been looking at me like I'm a fucking disappointment lately. They're going to freak."  
  
Sandy plays with the long sleeves of her sweatshirt as they rest over her hands. "Maybe they won't," she says, hoping her voice sounds convincing.  
  
"Yeah, right," Jared scoffs. "I'm sure they'll be thrilled."  
  
"Well, to be fair you have kind of been acting different than they're used to. They'll probably just need some time to... _adjust_ to everything, you know?"  
  
Jared sighs, rests his head back against the headboard of his bed. "I know." They both fall quiet for a long moment before Jared says under his breath, "It’s Jensen."  
  
Sandy's brow crinkles, features set in a confused expression. "What?"  
  
"It's Jensen," Jared says again, more clearly this time. "He's the one, I know it. Ever since he left, I've just felt like part of me is missing, and I kept trying to hide from what that meant but I don't think I can do it anymore. I'm tired of hiding."  
  
Sandy doesn't say anything, just pushes herself up from the bed suddenly. She walks over to the window, pulls open the blinds, and its then that Jared finally notices the blue and red lights. "Oh wow," Sandy breathes after a moment.  
  
"'Oh wow' what?" Jared asks, making his way over to look out the window as well. Two cop cars are parked at the end of the street, sirens silent but lights flashing brightly. He can vaguely make out four figures in the yard, two dressed in all black and the other two struggling against the restraints being placed on them.  
  
It's Jensen's parents, and they're getting arrested.  
  
"Fuck," Jared says softly.  
  
Sandy turns to face him, places a warm hand gently on his arm for a moment before dropping it to her side, hooking her thumb in her pocket. "This is good, right? It means someone must have told them what's going on. The police know something."  
  
Jared bites at his nails, and hopes to God she's right.  
  
**:::**  
  
"The police have been notified," Dr. Lawrence says to Jensen and Mackenzie as they sit in her office. Kristi is there too, standing off to the side while Dr. Lawrence delivers the news. She informs them of their parents' arrests, of what that means for both of them when it comes to charges and potential jail time. She tells them about where they go from here, what comes next for Jensen and Mackenzie. She tells them that it’s time to start building a new life, one that will likely not include their parents for a long time to come.  
  
Mackenzie's crying by the time Dr. Lawrence finishes, and Jensen holds her hand protectively, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. She's always been close to their mom, and she doesn't understand why she's getting punished too when their dad was the one that was always yelling and hurting them.  
  
"It's going to be okay, sweetie," Dr. Lawrence assures. "I promise it's going to be okay."  
  
Sniffing, Mackenzie nods slowly. When she stops crying a little while later, Kristi walks over and leads her out to the common rooms, hoping the distraction of her friends will do her some good. Jensen is still in Dr. Lawrence's office when Kristi returns a few minutes later, but he's no longer sitting silently in his chair. He's pacing, chewing his nails as he walks, and paying no attention at all to the others in the room.  
  
"I told him about the foster care system," Dr. Lawrence tells Kristi. "He's heard about all the horror stories from kids that have fallen through the cracks of the system. He's scared. He doesn't want to put Mackenzie through something like that."  
  
"It's too soon," Kristi says. She's been worried about this since Dr. Lawrence first brought up the idea a few days ago. "We just told him his parents got arrested, not just his dad but his mom too, and now we're dumping this on him? Not to mention all that he went through last week."  
  
"It's now or never, Kristi. You know that if we don't get Mackenzie with the Morgans soon, they're going to place another child with them, and God only knows where she could end up then."  
  
Kristi watches as Jensen wraps his arms protectively around himself, looking so impossibly young and vulnerable that it makes what she's about to say all the more difficult to force from her lips.  
  
“It’s not permanent, Jensen,” she tries, moving closer. Jensen takes a step back from her, and she feels the knot in her stomach twist even more. His expression is an uneasy mix of confusion and betrayal, anger and regret, and she can tell he doesn’t understand what they're trying to tell him, that he doesn't understand that they don’t want to take Mackenzie away from him. They only want what's best for them both. “It’s just until you can get on your feet and give her the stable home she needs, like we talked about,” she continues before pausing, watching him closely. He’s let his face go brilliantly blank, a defense mechanism she’s seen him use a few times, though never with her before.  
  
“The Morgans – they’re nice people, Jensen. I’ve known them for years,” Dr. Lawrence intervenes, but Jensen isn’t looking at her, seems to be looking right through both of them until he finally just pushes past, disappears through the doorway and leaves behind a heavy air thick with emotion.  
  
“I should go talk to him,” Kristi says, but Dr. Lawrence stops her as she steps towards the door.  
  
“No. Just let him cool off for a while. Give him some time.”  
  
“He doesn’t have time! He’s a runaway for God’s sake, and you've seen his scars so you should know more than anyone what he's capable of." Her voice is low and angry, and she knows she's being unprofessional, knows she's directing her frustration towards the wrong person, but there's something about Jensen that makes her want to see him succeed more than anything, and right now she feels like she's failing him. "What makes you think he’s not in his room cutting, or packing up their things right now?”  
  
“Because he’s got too much to lose,” Dr. Lawrence says, like it’s the answer to everything. “It may not always seem like it but he _is_ getting better. His wounds are healing inside and out and he’s _smart_ , Kristi. He would do anything for Mackenzie, and if that means letting her go for a while, then I have no doubt he’ll do it.”  
  
“What makes you so sure?” Her voice is incredulous. “This could be what sends him over the edge. Without Mackenzie, he has nothing.”  
  
"We've come too far to let him fall now. We're going to help him, but right now the best thing we can do is give him some time to process what's going on. Just give him some time.”  
  
**:::**  
  
Jared is sitting in Calculus listening to his teacher drone on about some concept he doesn't understand when he gets a note calling him down to the office. He takes it gratefully, gathering up his books and quickly making his way out of the room. Once out in the hall, he slows his pace. He is being called down to the office after all, and with his recent attendance record, he's pretty sure it's not going to be a happy visit.  
  
There's a woman sitting behind the front desk, and he walks over to her. "Um, I have a note that says I'm supposed to see..." Jared looks down at the paper, "a Mrs. Crawford."  
  
The woman doesn't stop typing as she directs him to a small room behind her. When he sees the title COUNSELOR labeling her office, frustration boils thick in his stomach, and he lets out a loud sigh before making his way inside.  
  
**:::**  
  
"I can't believe you made me go see the school counselor!" Jared shouts at his mother. "And she... she tells me you want me to go see a shrink? Are you serious?" Deep down he knows his mom was just doing what she thought was best for him, but it doesn't stop him from feeling impossibly angry and hurt, betrayed. There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn't crazy.  
  
"It was _your_ choice to start skipping class. You stay out at all hours of the night and we hardly even see you for dinner anymore. You won't talk to me or your father and tell us what's really going on. What's left for me to do Jared? I want to help you!" Sharon crosses her arms as she stares at her son. He might as well be a stranger, someone dropped off in her house. She feels like she doesn't even know who he is anymore, wonders if she ever did.  
  
"You want to talk? Okay, let’s talk about how my best friend is missing and no one around here seems to even acknowledge that he’s gone, like he was nothing. Or hey, how about we talk about how I go to parties to forget about how fucked up my life has become. You want to hear about all the stuff I've done, Mom? How I drink until I can't see straight?"  
  
"Jared..."  
  
"No. You want me to talk, so I’m fucking talking. How about I tell you that you have a gay son? Did you hear that one, Mom? I'm a fucking homo. You think some psychologist is going to fix that?" The words come out before he can stop himself, and the look of shock that crosses his mother's face stops him dead in his tracks. Everything goes silent, and Jared watches as his mom places a tired hand over her mouth, blinks away tears.  
  
"Mrs. Crawford says that this Dr. Robinson is a great therapist," she says quietly after a long while.  
  
"You'd rather send me to a shrink than deal with me?" Jared asks, voice just as soft.  
  
The answer he’s waiting for never comes.  
  
"Yeah. That's awesome," he says, backing away as he hears the front door open and his dad enter, home from work. "I'm not going," he states finally, brushing past his father on his way out the door and slamming it loudly behind him.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen walks along the sidewalk for hours, cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he passes by the various shops and buildings, restaurants and apartment complexes. When the sun begins to set, he reluctantly makes his way back to the Center, sits down on the front steps while he finishes the rest of his cigarette. A few drags later it’s burned down to the end and he puts the butt out against the concrete. He stares out at the emptying street, a stray car or person passing by every so often, and with nothing left to distract him anymore, the full weight of what Dr. Lawrence had said to him earlier settles heavily on his shoulders.  
  
**:::**  
  
Sometime in the middle of the night Jensen finds himself no longer lying in his room at the Center, lost in a peaceful darkness, but transported into the middle of the ocean. He’s floating, the sea breeze light and cool as it tickles and dances across his skin. The sun is shining directly overhead, but it doesn’t burn, just fills him with a warm sensation as he stares at the sky. He lets his body rise and fall with each wave that passes underneath him, until all the birds disappear from the sky and its clear blue hue begins to drain of its color, the light of the sun going with it. The water starts to move at a swifter pace, his body lifting higher and dipping lower as the waves become choppier and choppier, until he’s being jarred so much it feels like someone is shaking him roughly and he fights to keep his head above the water.  
  
When his eyes snap open, Mackenzie is staring down at him, her face dimly lit by the brightness of the moon shining through the small window. _You okay?_ she mouths, then points at him and runs the index fingers of both hands down her cheeks like the trail of a tear, the sign for _cry_.  
  
Jensen quickly runs a hand across his face to wipe away the wetness and rises a little. He points to himself and signs, _'I'm fine, just a bad dream.'_  
  
Mackenzie nods, but doesn’t make any attempt to move back to her own bed and Jensen reaches out to smooth down her sleep styled hair.  
  
“I can’t sleep,” he reads on her lips _._  
  
Jensen slides over and pats the area next to him, motioning for Mackenzie to climb in. The bed is small, and the fit is tight, but Jensen doesn’t mind. As she lays her head against his chest, he wonders if the other family, _the Morgans,_ would let her sleep in their bed if she has a bad dream, or if they’ll turn her away and make her go back to her room by herself like their parents often did.  
  
His thoughts shift back to home, to times when Mackenzie would be woken up by one of Mom and Dad’s arguments and would run down the hall to come sleep in his room. He remembers waking her up in the mornings after and carrying her to the bathroom because she was always so tired from getting little sleep the night before that she refused to move from his bed. He thinks of picking Mackenzie up from school every day and their walks home together, of the times when Jared came with them and somehow always convinced them to stop for ice cream along the way, paying for it without even a second thought.  
  
Jensen smiles a little in the darkness as the image of Jared warms him, helping to push everything else away like he always seemed to be able to do when they were together back home. He feels the thud of Mackenzie’s heartbeat and waits for her breathing to slow before he closes his eyes again, losing himself in the darkness once again.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen holds Mackenzie's hand in his as they sit next to each other in the dark plastic chairs outside Dr. Lawrence's office. His thumb rubs back and forth gently against the soft skin of the back of her hand, the same way he’s done so many times before, and from the way her fingers twitch every so often Jensen can tell she's getting restless. He maneuvers her fingers so that her middle and ring fingers are pressed down against her palm, leaving the other three fully extended in the sign for _I love you._ Mackenzie smiles at him just as the door to Dr. Lawrence's office opens and she emerges from the room along with a man and a woman.  
  
They look the same as they did in the photograph they’d been shown, the same wide smiles, and as they stare down at them Jensen feels sick to his stomach.  
  
"Jensen, Mackenzie," Dr. Lawrence says, "This is Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. They're going to be taking care of you for a while, Mackenzie."  
  
He knew it was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done, saying goodbye to his little sister, but somehow he’d been able to convince himself it wouldn’t hurt _this_ _much_. It takes all he has to hold it together when Mackenzie looks at him, eyes young and innocent like she's asking permission to leave, like she needs to know that it's okay for her to go.  
  
Jensen nods, signs _stay brave_ before squeezing her hand one more time.  
  
Mackenzie wraps her thin arms around him, and Jensen plants a light kiss on her head. _'See you soon,'_ he signs _. 'I promise.'_  
  
When she leaves, Jensen stares down the empty hallway until he can't hold it in any longer, then he buries his face in his hands and cries long and hard, until he's too exhausted to feel anymore.


	6. Part Five

  **Part Five**  
_Believe again;  
start to mend.  
We don't have to wait for destiny._

 **:::**  
  
"Whoa, wait. What? Slow down, Jared. I can't understand what–"  
  
"I fucked up, Sandy," Jared manages to choke out, gripping his cell phone tightly in his hand. "I really fucked up." A loud car passes by, horn blaring and Jared winces as the noise adds to the intensity of the migraine building behind his eyes.  
  
"Okay," Sandy says, and the easy calmness of her voice would probably irritate him any other time, but right now, it's the only sanity he has to cling to. "Where are you? I'll come meet you."  
  
"The park. In the clearing just off the walking trail." He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath. "Where Jensen–"  
  
"Yeah. I know where. I'll be there soon okay? Just, don't do anything stupid."  
  
"Okay," Jared says softly. "Okay."  
  
**:::**  
  
Sandy can't remember a time she's ever seen Jared this upset. His eyes are red, his hands shaking, and he doesn't even try to hide the tears that form trails down his cheeks. She slides down next to him on the ground, both of their backs resting against the thick trunk of the same tree.  
  
"I need to get out of here," he says quietly, voice rough.  
  
Sandy is silent for a long time before she finally says, "Where are you going to go?"  
  
"I don't know. Anywhere. Somewhere far."  
  
"You can't leave now, Jared," Sandy pushes. "We're _this close_ to graduating."  
  
"Speak for yourself. I doubt I'm even passing any of my classes anymore." He sounds hopeless, like he's already given up.  
  
"There's still some time, though. You're smart. You can bring your grades up."  
  
Jared just shrugs, mouth pressed into a thin line.  
  
"Is this about coming out?" Sandy asks. "I really think that if you just talk to your parents they'll–" She stops suddenly at Jared's bitter laugh.  
  
"They know."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I told my mom, who is probably telling my dad right now. They know." Jared rests his head back against the tree. "But the things I said... You should have seen my mom's face, Sandy. She couldn't even look at me."  
  
"God, Jared. I'm so sorry," Sandy says, shifting to wrap him tightly in a hug. To her surprise Jared doesn't pull away. He leans into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder for a long while before she finally pulls away.  
  
Silence washes over them again, and Jared reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a crushed pack of Marlboros. "I’m out of cigarettes," he states plainly.  
  
"I thought you hated smoking," Sandy says, a small, sad smile on her lips.  
  
"I do."  
  
She laughs a little. "Then why do you do it, genius?"  
  
Jared picks at the worn edges of the package in his hand. "Jensen used to smoke whenever he was upset about something. Makes me feel closer to him." He dips his head. "I know, it's stupid."  
  
"No, it isn't stupid at all," Sandy responds, gently squeezing his hand. "He's out there somewhere, Jared. I know it. You'll see him again."  
  
Jared looks at her, his face carrying some deep, raw pain that she isn't used to seeing there, and the broken way he whispers "I hope so," just seems to make her heart break for him a little more.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen sees the folded piece of paper lying on his bed before anything else when he enters his room. He had just gotten back from a walk in the cool morning air to clear his head a little, was on his way to take a shower when he saw it. He recognizes Chris' messy, slanted handwriting on it immediately.  
  
_So I guess this is it, huh? Bryan's going up to New York, wants me to go with him. We're getting married. Ain't that something?_  
  
_Anyway, remember what I told you that day, alright? Stay gold, Ponyboy. You're gonna make it._  
  
_-Chris_  
  
Jensen jerks when a hand rests on his arm. He turns to see Kristi standing behind him and he lets out a slow breath, his face full of questions.  
  
"Yeah," Kristi says, nodding slightly. "He's gone. Left about an hour ago."  
  
Kristi rubs a hand up and down his arm as Jensen stares blankly down at the piece of paper in his hand. He feels a sudden well of anger, of sadness and regret. Bryan wasn't a good guy. He shouldn't have left with him. Chris had just as many demons as he did and _he wasn't ready to go_.  
  
He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.  
  
"Chris has been here for a long time, Jensen," Kristi explains sadly. "Maybe he felt it was just his time to go."  
  
_'No goodbye?'_ Jensen signs slowly, and Kristi smiles sadly and shakes her head.  
  
"Never has been one for goodbyes. He wanted me to give this to you, though," she says, offering him a small book that Jensen hadn't noticed she'd been holding. "He said you would like it."  
  
Jensen carefully turns the book over in his hands, studies it closely. The cover is old and worn, the dark yellow tinted pages thin and delicate. Jensen reads the title, THE OUTSIDERS printed boldly in white, capital letters.  
  
"You okay?" Kristi asks when he looks up again.  
  
Jensen nods, but there’s nothing okay about this, nothing at all. Kristi gently squeezes his arm once, looks at him in a way that says _I know_ before she leaves.  
  
Alone now, Jensen opens the front cover of the book and places Chris' note neatly inside before lying it back down on his bed. He grabs his last pack of cigarettes from the small desk drawer, sticks his lighter in his pocket and makes his way back outside. He has a session with Dr. Lawrence in an hour, and he needs to take the edge off.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen never does make his way back inside.  
  
He's still sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Center, still smoking and adding to the small pile of discarded cigarettes that rests beside him, still staring out at the street in front of him when someone comes and sits next to him. He can tell from the familiar perfume that it's Dr. Lawrence without turning to look. Instead, he continues watching the people as they walk by. There's a couple headed to the library next door, messenger bags bulging with notebooks and papers but the way they're holding hands, joking with each other and smiling is all they seem to care about.  
  
He feels Dr. Lawrence nudge his arm, and he blows out the smoke in his lungs before finally turning to her.  
  
"I missed seeing you this morning," she says, and Jensen thinks she’s about to get onto him for skipping but she doesn’t. "How long have you been sitting here?"  
  
Jensen shrugs. _'A long time,'_ he signs  
  
"It's pretty out."  
  
Jensen nods, turning back to look at the street. The young couple is gone, and he watches a man in a business suit rush out of one of the tall building across the street and into a cab, cell phone held tightly to his ear.  
  
"I wanted to show you something," Dr. Lawrence continues after a while, pulling an envelope out of her pocket and handing it to Jensen.  
  
He balances his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, opening the unsealed envelope carefully. Inside is a picture, and as he slowly pulls it out he sees Mackenzie's bright face shining back at him, a smile bigger than he's ever seen on her splayed across her face. She's sitting outside what he guesses is the Morgans’ house, lying on her back in the grass. Her face is turned to the sun, a Chocolate Lab lying at her side with his nose snuggled underneath her arm.  
  
Jensen smiles a little as he takes it in, running his fingers over the glossy surface of the photo as if touching it will bring him closer to her, will allow some of that joy to soak in through his skin.  
  
"She's really happy there," Dr. Lawrence says, the comment bittersweet as he sees it form on her lips. "But she misses you. The Morgans tell me the only time she really opens up is when she's talking about you." She smiles, leaning over and nudging him with his shoulder. "Turn it over."  
  
Jensen flips the picture over to the back, sees Mackenzie's big, messy handwriting.  
  
_i miss u jensen._  
_Love, mac_  
  
Jensen can feel his heart clench as he reads the words, a sense of longing washing over him as he can all but feel Mackenzie's arms around him, wrapping him into one of her warm hugs that always seemed to come at just the right moments.  
  
"She's waiting for you, Jensen. She wants to be with her brother again."  
  
Jensen pulls out his notepad that had been resting in his pocket. He writes carefully, words cautious but hand steady.  
  
**i don't know if i can give her everything she needs**  
  
"You'll never know unless you try," Dr. Lawrence says, and Jensen takes another long drag of his cigarette, turning his head and blowing out the smoke in a steady stream.  
  
Balancing his cigarette in between his fingers again, he rests his forehead against the heel of his hand. He's tired. So, so tired of being strong, of fighting through his demons and having a good day only for it to be ruined by the next morning because of the nightmares that never seem to allow him much sleep. He's tired of feeling trapped in this world, like everyone he loves is a million miles away and he's left trailing behind them and crawling towards something he can't seem to reach.  
  
Dr. Lawrence places her hand on his back, rubbing it up and down for a moment in a goodbye gesture before Jensen feels her slowly get up and make her way back inside. He doesn't move until he feels heat on his fingertips as his cigarette burns down to the end. He puts it out against the concrete and leaves it lying in a pile with all the rest. He stands up slowly, legs stiff from sitting in the same position for so long and heads up the steps leading inside.  
  
Back in his room, Jensen places the picture of his sister on the nightstand, propping it up against the small alarm clock. Still in the same spot he'd left it earlier, he picks up the book Chris had given to him, lies down on top of the covers and opens it up to the first page. Then, he begins to read.  
  
**:::**  
  
Everything is different now, and though Jared knew there was going to be some type of falling out, he hadn't expected this.  
  
It's like they're stuck in some kind of awkward dance, where eye contact is avoided at all costs and being in the same room as one another makes their skin crawl so much it's unbearable. Conversations stop when he walks into the room; his mom always looks at him like she's about to start crying at any moment; his dad always carries this grimacing expression on his face now. Even Megan doesn't pester him with the most senseless questions she can come up with anymore.  
  
He’s taken to spending most of his time at Sandy's house, leaving for school earlier than he needs to so they can meet at her house and walk to school together, going home with her afterwards so he doesn't have to sit locked away in his room to spare them all the uneasiness. She helps take his mind off things and starts to set him back on track. She pushes him to study to get his grades back up, makes him laugh before he has the chance to cry, even going as far as dressing him in a ridiculous chef outfit one day so they could bake a popular dish from a foreign country for a school project they'd both been assigned.

She's his rock, what keeps him going every day, and he knows that without her here he would have given up a long time ago.  
  
**:::**  
  
"I'm pretty sure I haven't slept more than twenty four hours in the last two months," Jared says, dropping his head onto his open textbook. Today was one of the days Sandy was in full drill sergeant mode, dragging him to tutoring after school, then to a study group session, and now to the library. His only saving grace at passing a few of his classes is acing his finals, and he's been staying up all night making up some of the assignments his teachers had allowed him to re-do, running purely on caffeine. Despite all of the energy drinks, a throbbing ache had developed at the front of his skull sometime at the beginning of the month, and it hasn't disappeared since.  
  
"Stop whining. Start studying," Sandy says flatly. She doesn't even bother to look up from her AP Biology book, chewing on the cap of her highlighter as she marks something in her notes.

"Can't. My head is going to explode."

"You're preaching to the choir here, buddy."  
  
"Can we _please_ take a break? I'm running on empty." Jared digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
  
"Do I need to remind you that if you don't study, you don't pass finals, and if you don't pass finals, you don't graduate?" Sandy says, finally looking up from her books.  
  
"No. I'm pretty sure I got that. Thanks for the reminder though, Debby Downer."  
  
Sandy rolls her eyes and points at the mess of papers in front of him. "Study."  
  
Jared groans loudly, causing the librarian shelving books a few feet away from their table to shoot him a look. Sandy throws her eraser at him. "How many more days until graduation again?"  
  
"Twenty-seven."  
  
"And until finals?" he asks.  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"So, let’s see," Jared begins, trailing off as he scribbles something on the corner of one of the papers in front of him. "That means we have four hundred and eighty more hours to study for these tests. I think we can spare one hour for a food break."  
  
"Nope," Sandy says offhandedly. Her attention has already turned back to her notes, and Jared watches on as she drags her highlighter across the page.  
  
For some reason, he can't help but smile.  
  
"Thank you, Sandy."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Thanks. For helping me with all of this... you know, with school and stuff at home. I don't think I would have stayed sane if it weren't for you."  
  
Sandy looks up, returning the smile. "Don't mention it," she says, her grin growing bigger. "But you're welcome."  
  
**:::**  
  
They leave the library just before its closing time, and despite the sun having already gone down and his rumbling stomach, Jared doesn't want to go home. He's tired and irritable, and he knows that walking through his front door is only going to make things worse. He doesn't have the patience or care to walk on eggshells around his family tonight.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," he tells Sandy as they reach her house.  
  
"All right. Try to get some sleep. You're going to turn into a caffeine zombie or something pretty soon if you don't."  
  
Jared laughs tiredly. "I'll do my best."  
  
He takes the long way from Sandy's house to his, thinks about walking around the neighborhood again but realizes he's only delaying the inevitable. The house is dark when he walks in, but he can see the faint glow of the kitchen light and hear the low murmurs of his parents’ voices. He slips off his shoes, dropping his backpack by the stairs before going to the kitchen. He can practically feel the tension of the room prickling against his skin when his parents see him enter.  
  
Jared ignores the quick end to their conversation, acts like he doesn't care that they've probably been sitting there for hours talking about him, and heads towards the refrigerator.  
  
"How was your day, honey?" his mom asks. Her voice sounds shaky, higher than normal, like she's trying to overcompensate for the sadness there with too much false cheeriness.  
  
"It was all right," Jared responds, his back turned to his parents as he searches through the contents of the refrigerator. Seeing nothing particularly appealing he opens the freezer door, reaches to the very back of the top shelf where he's hidden the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.  
  
"Good," his mom says, nodding. "That's good."  
  
His dad clears his throat. "Where have you been all day? You haven't been home since this morning."  
  
" _Yeah_ ," Jared replies, dragging out the word and doing his best not to roll his eyes. "I told you I was studying with Sandy after school and I'd probably be home late."  
  
"And were you?"  
  
  
Jared's lips form into a thin line, his jaw set stubbornly. "I'm _gay,_ Dad. That doesn't make me some whore that goes out with boys every time I leave the house."  
  
"Is that what you think this is about?" his dad asks, voice quiet, and when Jared looks up he's surprised at the shocked expression his dad is wearing on his face. "We're your _parents_ , Jared. We worry about you when you stay out late, especially since..."  
  
"I don't do that anymore. I told you guys that."  
  
"And we heard you, but you decided to break that trust by drinking and doing God knows what in the first place. Now you have to earn it back." He pauses, looks over at Sharon. "I think we all just need more time."  
  
Jared swallows thickly. "Okay," he says softly. "Okay."  
  
**:::**  
  
When Jensen was younger, he used to crawl out of bed long after his mom had tucked him in to look out the window at the stars. He imagined each sparkling light as another planet, one where everyone talked with their hands like him and no one ever touched you if you didn’t want them to. Every night after he climbed back in bed he would close his eyes and wish upon those same stars to wake up on one of the planets in the sky. He even made sure to always sleep with his favorite teddy bear snug by his side as he fell asleep so that he could come with him too. He doesn’t remember how many times it took him to wake up in his same bed, in his same house with his same family for him to finally stop wishing.  
  
Now, as he fills the large suitcase the Center has let him borrow to carry his few belongings, he thinks about those nights.  
  
The suitcase is only half full when he finishes packing, all of his possessions easily fitting into the large storage space with more than enough room left over. He makes sure everything is folded neatly, running his hands over all the creases before he closes it, the zipper vibrating in his hand as it connects the two sides.  
  
His parents’ trial is going to be starting soon, and it’s time for him to make the trip with Dr. Lawrence back home to face them.  
  
Jensen moves the suitcase down from the bed onto the floor, sits down on the soft mattress. He doesn’t know how long he’s sitting there, staring at nothing when Kristi comes to his room and tells him it's time.

Taking the book Chris gave him, he slips Mackenzie's picture inside its pages, grabs his bag and makes his way out the door.  
  
**:::**  
  
The meeting they have with the lawyer is in one of the tall buildings of downtown Dallas, one Jensen remembers seeing often but has never actually been inside before.  
  
"Does he understand what's going to be happening these next few days?" the lawyer asks, words rushing impatiently out of his lips. He's an older man, his dark hair lined with silver streaks and bags resting underneath his eyes. His suit is blue, freshly pressed, and Jensen wonders how many cases he goes through each day, and if this one even means anything to him.  
  
"You don't have to aim your questions at me," Dr. Lawrence responds. "Jensen can read your lips."  
  
The lawyer shifts uncomfortably. "My apologies."  
  
Jensen misses most of the exchange, though; he's too busy staring absently down at his shaking hands. He grasped the most important parts from the beginning of the meeting, the briefing on what to expect while testifying on the stand. He looks up when Dr. Lawrence taps his arm.  
  
"There will be an interpreter there for the entire trial," the lawyer says, “but if you have any trouble understanding something don’t be afraid to let someone know.”  
  
Jensen nods slowly, signs _'OK',_ but as they leave he doesn't feel any more at ease about what's to come than when they'd entered.  
  
**:::**  
  
Standing outside the courtroom, Jensen's heart is beating so furiously in his chest that he wonders if other people can hear it. His hands shake, his palms sweat, and the pacing he's been doing while they wait for the trial to begin has been doing little to calm his nerves.  
  
"Jensen," Dr. Lawrence says, standing to block his path. The lawyer had just given her the signal that it was time to enter the room, but she knew that Jensen was in no shape to do so yet. "Jensen," she repeats. "Stop."  
  
He does, fingers tapping his leg as his arms hang at his side.  
  
"Take deep breaths. You're going to be fine. All you have to do is tell the truth. The rest is out of your hands." She watches as Jensen does his best to fight the anxiety growing inside of him. "It's time to go in now. Are you ready?"  
  
Jensen wants to sign _no_ , wants to shake his head, walk right out those front doors and never look back, but he knows he can’t. He gives a hesitant nod, takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly.  
  
Dr. Lawrence gives him a reassuring smile and reaches out to smooth down the collar of Jensen's shirt. "I'm proud of you, Jensen," she says. "You're going to be fine. I know it."


	7. Part Six

**Part Six**  
_If you're out there,_  
and you're ready now,  
say it loud.  
Scream it out.

 **:::**  
  
"Can you believe it's actually here? In like _twelve_ _hours_ we'll be walking across the stage for real!" Sandy says excitedly, practically bouncing up and down as they stand in the kitchen of her house.  
  
"I'm hungry," Jared replies. "Do you think they'll have food there? I hope they have food."  
  
Sandy rolls her eyes. "No, Jared. It's called graduation _practice,_ not party."  
  
"Yeah, well they could still have food, you know, since they're making us go to the thing in the first place." He yawns, closing the magazine he'd been flipping through. "It's Saturday morning. I could be sleeping right now."  
  
"Quit being such a baby," Sandy responds, hitting him lightly on the arm. "We better go. _I_ , for one, don't want to be late."  
  
**:::**  
  
"So, gentlemen: please come to the ceremony clean-shaven. I'm sure your parents don't want you looking like a cave man as you walk across the stage," Principle Lennings says as she looks out at the graduating seniors in front of her. "And ladies: regular dress code applies for what is worn under your graduation gown. Please try to wear shoes you can walk in so we don't have any embarrassing moments."  
  
Sandy rolls her eyes, pokes Jared who has dozed off as he sits next to her. "Okay, I admit it. This is lame. They should have food here to at least compensate," she whispers.  
  
"You woke me up to complain?" Jared grumbles.  
  
"Yes. If I have to suffer, so do you."  
  
"Well that's sadistic," he responds through a yawn. He reaches his arms up and stretches his long limbs in a not so discrete move, twists and looks around behind him as he stretches his back.  
  
"I have a plan," Sandy says when he's settled back in his seat.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I said, I have an escape plan," she repeats, only giving him a few moments notice before she shrieks loudly, jumping on top of her chair. "Oh my God! A rat! There's a rat!"  
  
The girl seated next to her startles, jumping on top of her chair as well. ''Where?" she shouts.  
  
"Right _there!_ " Sandy points to a random spot on the floor nearby, causing the people in that area to jump up, their own shrieks of surprise adding to the commotion. All the attention has turned from Principle Lennings and focused itself now on the screaming girls.  
  
"Hell no," the guy next to Jared says. "I _hate_ rats. I'm out." He gets up, walking straight out the auditorium doors. No one even notices, let alone tries to stop him. Jared follows quickly with a muttered, "Yeah, me too."  
  
He waits outside the doors for Sandy, who trickles out a few minutes later in between streams of leaving students. The moment they make it outside, they both burst out laughing.  
  
"You, Sandy, are a genius," Jared says when he finally catches his breath.  
  
Sandy gives a cocky smile and brushes off her shoulder. "That, Jared Padalecki, I already knew."  
  
**:::  
  
** Jensen takes in a deep breath, knee bouncing up and down as he sits on the stand. He’s terrified, can all but feel the eyes of everyone in the courtroom resting on him as he sits there on display.  
  
On the defendant’s side of the courtroom sit his mom and dad, and he lets his focus slip from the interpreters and lawyers as he takes in their appearance. His mom looks thinner than he remembers her being, her hands wringing as they rest on the table. It’s what she does when she’s nervous or worried, the small motion reminding Jensen of the many times he’s seen her sit at the kitchen table after an argument and do the same thing. His dad looks old, like he’s aged years in the long months since he and Mackenzie had left, but there’s no wisdom or remorse in his eyes or in the almost bored expression he holds on his face. He catches Jensen’s eyes for a brief moment, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a way that makes Jensen’s stomach turn. It sends a rush of memories through him, a string of flashbacks filled with the terror and abuse they’ve all had to endure because of him, and when Jensen finds himself in the present again he’s reminded more than ever of why he’s here, of why he has to do this no matter how scared he is.  
  
He slowly brings his focus to the interpreter in front of him when a waving hand catches his eye, and he wonders how long she’s been trying to get his attention. The prosecution lawyer is standing a few feet away from her, a confused look on his face as he stares at him. Jensen realizes he must have missed something, and they’re waiting on him to respond. He shakes his head once hoping the motion will clear it. He drops his eyes for a moment to gather himself, ignores the burning in his cheeks as he looks up and signs ' _sorry_.'  
  
“It’s all right,” the lawyer says slowly. “Jensen, can you answer some questions for me?”  
  
Jensen nods, his hand shaking as he signs _yes._  
  
The lawyer starts off slow. He asks him simple questions, like where he was born and who he lived with until he went to the Center. He has Jensen explain what his home life was like, if he would consider it happy or normal. Jensen isn’t sure how to answer at first, his hands hesitant as he describes his relationship with his quick-tempered father. When asked about his mother, Jensen tells them how she always did the best she could to protect them. He’s then asked about what made him decide to take his sister and run away from home.  
  
Jensen pauses for a long while, hands tentative as he answers that he didn’t have a choice.  
  
“Can you explain what you mean by that?” the lawyer prods.  
  
“My dad was becoming more and more physical with us,” the interpreter voices, watching Jensen closely as he signs. “There were fights every night. When he would get mad he would start yelling, and sometimes if I didn’t understand what he said he would start hitting me and kicking me. I couldn’t handle it anymore, and I didn’t want him to start hurting my sister. I didn’t have a choice. We had to leave.”  
  
It’s then that the lawyer presents the evidence collected the first day he arrived at Hope Children’s Center. Pictures are shown on a large screen of his bruised torso, of belt marks up and down his back. It shows his protruding ribs, a large bruise underneath sunken eyes. Jensen can’t stand to look at them, instead focuses his attention on a discolored spot on the wooden rail of the stand in front of him.  
  
“Jensen, can you tell me when these pictures were taken?” the lawyer asks, motioning to the large screen beside him.  
  
“When I arrived at the Center a day after we left home. The doctors there give each new resident a physical, and that’s when they saw the marks,” the interpreter says.  
  
“Were you in any kind of accident before you got to the Center?”  
  
Jensen shakes his head, signs ' _no.'_  
  
“Can you explain where all of these marks came from, then?”  
  
_'My dad,'_ Jensen signs, face and eyes cold. ' _Nothing else.'_  
  
There’s a dramatic silence after the interpreter voices Jensen’s words, a long pause that leaves Jensen staring down at his lap, and then the lawyer turns to the judge and announces he has no more questions.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen likes to think there was a time when his father loved him unconditionally, even if he can’t remember it himself. He likes to think that deep down, when all the years of alcohol abuse and anger and resentment of what could have been are removed, his dad loves him like a parent should.  
  
When the judge announces that the court will be adjourned until tomorrow morning, his parents are escorted out the side door, hands cuffed behind their backs.  
  
Jensen can't bring himself to watch them go.  
  
**:::**  
  
Thirty seconds. That’s all it takes for him to go from _calm_ to _panic_ , and then all that matters is getting out before he goes down in flames.  
  
He runs, doesn’t stop until he pushes through the court’s large double doors and feels the subtle outside heat replace the cold chill of inside on his skin. He looks back at the large building behind him, waiting to see if anyone is coming for him, but there is no one, so he turns his attention to the people in around him quickly passing him by. They all look so determined, like they have somewhere to go where people will be waiting for them, expecting them to show up at any minute.  
  
He doesn't think about it, just starts walking, merging silently into the crowd.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen barely recognizes his house as he slowly walks up to it. The blinds are still open, but inside is dark and empty. The grass in the lawn is overgrown, riddled with weeds, and the flowers in the flowerbed are dark and shriveled. There's so much sadness surrounding it, the way it stands abandoned, how it’s just as empty now as when they used to live there, and Jensen thinks how home to him will never be a place of happiness, a place of warm memories that he can bring his children back to during holidays and summer vacations.  
  
It takes a while for his feet to start moving again, and when they do they lead him to Jared's house further down the street. It looks just as he remembered; bright white shutters standing against the red brick, grass freshly mowed and flowers in full bloom. The sight brings a small smile to his face as he thinks of all the times he’s shared with Jared there, how many laughs and smiles and home cooked meals came from within.  
  
He wants to run into the safety and familiarity of it all, wants to pound on the door as loud as he can but he doesn’t, stops himself before he takes another step forward.  
  
For all he knows Jared could have forgotten him and moved on in all this time.  
  
He stands there for what could have been hours, looking up at the house and weighing the options in his mind before he remembers, and then he backs away from the house in front of him without so much as a knock.  
  
**:::**  
  
"Allison Abbott... Julie Abohosh..." the speaker begins, starting at the very beginning of the list of graduates, and Jared shares an excited glance with Sandy, seated a few rows up from him.  
  
Even as he sits there in his cap and gown, he can't believe he actually did it, can't believe he was able to pull his grades up and undo all the damage he'd done in time to walk across the stage. He cheers loudly when Sandy's name is called, and as the announcer reaches the O's his heart really begins to pound. It seems to hit him fully then, like he didn't want to allow himself to look forward to this moment before until it was actually here.  
  
"Jason Orson... Lisa Ozman… Jared Padalecki... "  
  
His name pumps through the speakers, and Jared climbs the stairs to the stage carefully, brimming with a kind of self-worth that had been lost in him for a long time.  
  
"Congratulations, Mr. Padalecki," Principle Lennings says with a smile, handing him his diploma.  
  
Jared takes her outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. "Thank you," he says, smile just as wide.  
  
He pauses for a picture after he's climbed the last of the steps leading from the stage and is already halfway down the row to his seat when he sees him, standing tall in between the large open doors at the back of the auditorium.  
  
Jared freezes and just stares, blinking his eyes rapidly to make sure he isn't hallucinating. Then he's turning back, clumsily making his way past the already seated students behind him and starting to run once he hits the aisle, oblivious to the murmurs and eyes that follow him.  
  
He stops himself just short of Jensen, resists the overwhelming need to wrap his arms around him, to hold him and never let him go, and settles for just cupping Jensen's face in his hand. He breathes in his familiar scent, relishes the sparks igniting underneath his fingers as they rest on his smooth skin.  
  
It's Jensen that snakes his arms around Jared's waist, hands hesitant at first, and then they're squeezing him, holding him so tightly it takes Jared's breath away.  
  
"You're alive," Jared says when they finally break apart. "Oh God Jensen, you're alive. You're okay." He rubs a hand over his mouth. "I thought you were dead. Fuck, Jensen I thought you were _dead_."  
  
The sudden rush of emotion surprises him as it wells up, bubbles out in his words, but Jensen doesn't back away, just steps in even closer. He looks strong, stronger than Jared has seen him in a long time, and even though there is still something troubled in his gaze, he looks _alive,_ like he's found something to live for again.  
  
Jensen forms his hand into the sign for _I love you_ , pressing it against Jared's chest to quiet him. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he's been holding inside for so long, but now that he's here his mind is blank and all he can think is _Jared Jared Jared._  
  
_'Sorry,'_ Jensen signs, rubbing his fist in a circle against his chest as a blush begins to creep into his cheeks. Sorry I had to leave you. Sorry I didn’t write. Sorry you couldn’t come with me.  
  
Jared reaches out, taking Jensen’s hand and lacing their fingers together. "Don't be sorry, Jensen. It's okay." He smiles, and something between a laugh and a choked off sob comes out of his mouth. " _God_. I love you too, Jensen. So fucking much." He leans forward, rests his forehead against Jensen's and pulls him even closer. "I'm glad you're home," he whispers against soft eyelashes. "I'm so glad you're home."  


 

  
  
**:::**  
  
The bells above the entrance to the café rattle loudly, and as Jared walks in, hand holding Jensen's tightly by his side, he can't help but smile. He doesn't care about the attention they draw, about the looks they get. All that matters is that he's here with Jensen, and in this moment they're safe and warm and happy.  
  
They sit in a small booth, the same one they sat in the last time he met Jensen here, and it's all so déjà vu that for a while Jensen doesn't say anything at all, just looks around and takes it all in. The same people wait the tables, the same decorations hang on the walls, even he and Jared sit on the same sides of the table as they did before, but everything feels so different now, less like the walls are closing in and more like a hundred different doors have been placed in front of him and all he has to do is choose which one to open first.  
  
Jensen smiles then, really, truly smiles, and Jared can't help the grin that spreads stupidly across his face at the sight.  
  
It's here, in the same café that brought back so many memories, so much of the past, that they decide their future together.  
  
"So Austin it is then," Jared says, smiling even wider at the thought. "I'm moving to Austin. With my _boyfriend_."  
  
Jensen forgot just how much he missed Jared's big, goofy grin, and leans in across the table to kiss his soft lips.  
  
"Mm… I think I could get used to this," Jared says, bringing their lips together once more. "Yeah," he sighs. "I could _definitely_ get used to this."  
  
**:::**  
  
The apartment they get is warm and cozy, and Jensen knows it’s _The_ _One_ the moment the realtor leads them through its door on the first floor of the complex. It has Irish Cream colored walls and a pantry large enough to serve Jared’s never-ending appetite. The living room is already partially furnished, and Jared’s parents have agreed to help fulfill the rest of their basic utility and furniture needs when they help them move in.  
  
“This is the last box,” Mr. Padalecki announces as he sets it down carefully, stretching out his back as he stands upright.  
  
“Getting old there, Pops?” Jared chides, unpacking one of the many boxes scattered across the living room. He cuts the tape holding it together with an old pair of scissors, begins pulling out the assortment of items inside. Some of Jensen’s clothes are mixed in with his, both packed together inside the worn box, and he takes them out to sort into separate piles on the floor next to him. He stops when he finds an old book towards the bottom. Picking it up, he reads ‘The Outsiders’ on the cover just before two slips of paper fall out of the thin pages and float to the floor. The first is a short note signed by someone named Chris. The second, a picture of Mackenzie.  
  
“I was expecting more of a thank you,” his dad responds to Jared’s earlier remark, not noticing the shift in his son as he turns to Sharon. She’s stacking dishes in the kitchen, listening to the boys bickering. “Aren’t you glad he’s finally getting out of the house?”  
  
She smiles. “Be nice, you two.” She closes the cabinet and walks over to join them in the living room. Leaning against the low counter separating the room from the kitchen, she pushes the stray hair that has fallen from her ponytail out of her face. “I forgot just how tiring moving was. When did you say Jensen was coming in again? My stomach is starting to growl.”  
  
Jared checks the time on his phone, frowning. “He should’ve been back already.”  
  
“Maybe the bus is running late?” his dad offers, wiping the sweat from his brow.  
  
“Yeah, probably,” Jared says absentmindedly, drumming his fingers in a steady beat on the leg of his jeans. Dr. Lawrence had encouraged Jensen to continue seeing her for therapy since he moved to the city, and he’d gone to meet with her a few hours ago. Jared offered to come with him, but Jensen had told him no, that it was something he needed to do by himself, so Jared didn’t push. He understood; Jensen’s been doing this by himself for a long time now. Still, it doesn’t stop him from worrying.  
  
“I should go look for him,” Jared says, quickly placing the fallen note and photo back inside the front cover. He puts it back in the bottom of the box and places their clothes on top; he wasn’t meant to see that book or anything that was inside. Jensen hasn’t told him much about all that went on while he was in Austin before, and Jared wonders if this city holds just as many skeletons as the last.  
  
Jared ignores the confused look his parents exchange as he heads for the door. He offers a mumbled, “I’ll be back soon,” but when he opens the front door he runs smack into Jensen, who is carrying two large bags of Chinese take-out and smelling faintly of cigarettes.  
  
Jensen recovers quickly and manages not to drop anything, looks at him with his head cocked slightly to the side in a clearly amused expression.  
  
“Sorry!” Jared blushes. He stands there, taking in the person in front of him. Jensen’s changed so much since he left; it’s evident in the way he carries himself now, with his shoulders less hunched and his head held higher. He pushes the name Chris to the far corner of his mind, locks it away and stores it as something Jensen will just have to tell him about when he’s ready. “Oh, here…” he says finally, “Let me get that.” He takes one of the bags from Jensen who asks him if he’s all right with his newly freed hand.  
  
Jared nods, laughs a little, because isn’t he the one that should be asking Jensen if he was okay? “Come on,” he says, taking Jensen’s hand as they go inside. “I’m starving.”  
  
They eat their first meal in their new apartment on the floor of the kitchen, surrounded by open boxes and a random assortment of unpacked items. There’s conversation and jokes, shared looks and smiles, and as Jared and Jensen move in close to each other after finishing the food on their plate, they wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
**:::**  
  
“So what do you think about this color for Mackenzie’s room?” Jared asks one afternoon. He holds up a sample card that Jensen takes from him, _Zany_ _Pink_ printed in small letters in the bottom corner.  
  
' _Mac doesn’t like pink_ ,' he signs. Jared looks absolutely mortified at his answer.  
  
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know. I thought all girls liked pink,” he says, shoulders slumping in a way that makes him look utterly defeated.  
  
Jensen laughs and signs that it’s fine, his sister is from another planet.  
  
Jared doesn’t laugh though, just slinks down onto the couch. Jensen follows, walks over and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. He places the Y handshape to his chin to ask what was wrong.  
  
“Your sister is moving in next week. How am I supposed to look after her when I don’t even know her? She hates pink, and I was going to paint her room Zingy – whatever it’s called.”  
  
Jensen reads his lips, playfully rolling his eyes before he points at Jared and imitates his kicked puppy expression.  
  
“I am not pouting,” Jared says. “I’m _not_.”  
  
Jensen grabs the notepad resting on the table beside him and starts to write.  
  
**you know the important things**  
  
“Like what?”  
  
**like how to make her smile when she’s sad, and that her favorite ice cream flavor is rocky road**  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything, Jensen,” Jared counters, but stops when Jensen starts writing again.  
  
**it means everything**  
  
Jensen sets the notepad back on the table after Jared finishes reading, leans in to kiss the worry from his face.  
  
They decide to paint her walls Splashy Blue, and by the look on her face when she sees her new room for the first time, it was the right choice.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**  
_If you hear this message,_  
 _wherever you stand._  
 _The future started yesterday,_  
 _and we’re already late._

 **:::**  
  
When Jared kisses Jensen, everything melts away around them until they are all that’s left, bodies connected as one. Unspoken words pressed onto their lips dissolve, sink into their skin, etch _I love you_ and _you’re beautiful_ and _don’t ever leave me_ onto their chests. When they make love, it’s slow and gentle. Soft strokes and cool kisses. Jensen loves the look in Jared’s eyes, like he’s falling but knows the ground beneath him is soft and firm. Jared feels the tremors that run through Jensen’s body, and thinks he makes the most beautiful sounds.  
  
**:::**  
  
Jensen’s back fits perfectly against Jared’s chest as they lie pressed against one another. The air of the room is still and warm, the heat of Jared’s body making his skin sweat. Jensen turns slowly, manages to maneuver his way from underneath Jared’s arm and slip unnoticed out of the bed. He keeps his steps light and walks over to the window, slowly undoing the latches and pulling it open.  
  
The night is calm, the sky clear, and the stars sparkle and shine as they bask in the glow of the moon. He picks out the different constellations, thinks of the stories behind them. He thinks of Chris and wonders if he’s okay, thinks of Mackenzie tucked safely in her bed down the hall, thinks of back home and tries to forget the nightmare that woke him.  
  
He can feel Jared’s footsteps coming up behind him before arms snake their way around his waist, hook together at the hands. He leans into the warm touch, eyes closing briefly before Jared reaches out and tilts his face upward.  
  
“Want to talk about it?” His voice is barely a whisper.  
  
Jensen shakes his head, makes a broad motion towards the sky and signs _beautiful_ with a circular motion of his hand around his face.  
  
“Yeah,” Jared says, leaning in to rest his head on Jensen’s shoulder. “It is beautiful.”  
  
Jensen brings his hands down, rests them on top of Jared’s still wrapped securely around his waist. He feels safe and warm. Happy. _Alive_.  
  
“Love you,” Jared whispers, feeling Jensen tremble as his breath dances across his neck, and he knows without having to ask that even though Jensen can’t hear his words, he feels them move somewhere deep inside him.  
  
**:::**  
  
As it turns out, there’s more to downtown Austin than crowded bars and endless nightlife. It’s full of hidden parks and walking trails, small open-air cafés and diners that they have come to love in the months since they made it their home.  
  
They’re walking along a trail named Broken Arrow when Jensen spots it. The tree is small, trunk thin then when compared to the rest of the trees surrounding it and he would have missed it completely if Jared hadn’t needed to stop to tie his shoe.  
  
There, carved into the area just below the first sprouting branch, are the letters **_J & J_**.  
  
Jensen looks over at Jared, and the laughter that comes from both of them is loud and boisterous and carefree.  
  
“Well there’s a cheesy romance flick if I ever saw one,” Jared says through a smile.  
  
Jensen’s not sure what makes him walk over to the tree, or take out the apartment key from his pocket, but he does, carves **_are out there_ ** underneath the original letters. When he finishes, he smiles up at Jared who just leans in and kisses him, lips soft and warm as they press against his.  
  
“Who knew you were such a romantic,” Jared says when they break apart, grin still large and wide.  
  
Maybe, if it were another time, they would have returned to that spot, gone there to escape life’s wrath, but when they walk away they don’t come back.  
  
They have each other now, and it’s all the escape they need.  
  
  
**-end**  

  


♥  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter were taken from the song If You're Out There by John Legend. Hope you all enjoyed the story! Even though it was written 6 years ago (man does time fly), comments and feedback are always welcomed! :)


End file.
